Out of Time
by AstraPerAspera
Summary: What happens to Sam and Jack when the world they know is falling apart around them. Inspired by the novel Stargate SG1: Relativity by James Swallow. Sam and Jack Ship.
1. Prologue

**STARGATE SG-1 **

**OUT OF TIME **

**by**

**AstraPerAspera**

_**A/N**: Even if you ordinarily skip Author Notes, please take the time to read this one, in spite of it's length._

_This story was inspired by the Fandamonium novel **Stargate SG-1: Relativity** by James Swallow. I encourage anyone who hasn't read it to find themselves a copy and do so. It is one of the best Stargate novels out there. When I read **Relativity** I was haunted by the timeline we did not get to see and by the relationships that were only implied, not detailed. I could not rest until I explored this timeline myself. I have never before written an ATL story; my works have mostly been based off of Sam and Jack canon. It's a testament to the impact Relativity had on me that I felt compelled to write this, in spite of my usual bias. Please note that the character of Jade, the background against which my story unfolds, the time travel and the future Jack O'Neill are all the creation of Mr. Swallow; I hope he feels I have done them justice. For those of you who want to know how the timeline was fixed, you must read Mr. Swallow's book._

_I would also like to acknowledge and give special thanks and hugs to **mara-anni** who not only kept me on the straight and narrow but suffered through the telling of this story with me. It was not an easy fic to write. A great big thank you also to **Seahen**, our resident USAF expert, for helping make sure I passed inspection._

_Because of the length, I will be uploading chapters daily, even though the work is complete. There are six parts not including the Prologue and Epilogue._

_Finally, there is major character death in this story. Don't say you weren't warned._

**PROLOGUE**

_"She's just like her mother. I see so much of her in Jade it cuts me like a knife sometimes."_

He hadn't meant to say that. Hadn't meant to give even that much away. As for the offer to tell him who…well…he knew the guy well enough to know he'd have to weigh that one for a bit. And that had given him just the amount of time he needed. Jade had managed to slip away from Daniel and join him on the deck. The times he'd dreamed of bringing her here, showing her this place when she was a little girl. What a life they might have had, the three of them. Well…maybe now they would. Or, hell…maybe they wouldn't. Because it was the damned Aschen who'd driven them together in the first place. Desperate refugees on a wasted planet who'd finally realized there was nothing left of their lives but one another. And even that had almost been enough. But not quite. Not quite.

He looked at his daughter and remembered when she was born. Her mother had wept. Not the tears of joy most women weep, but of bitter regret for the galaxy she had brought their child into. It was the only time he'd ever seen her nearly beaten like that. Never before, and after that, never again. For all the horror that followed, she never once broke down. Even when the bastards…

_Stop_. He could almost hear her reprimand. It was as if she were standing right beside him. Was she? He blinked. No. It was Jade. For just a moment he'd thought…. Well…he was almost a doddering old fool anyway.

Jade smiled. Oh God! It _was_ her smile…the one that went to her eyes and made them shine…he'd never noticed…but then, his daughter had had very little to smile about in her life, so it was no wonder.

The moment was here. Considering what they'd done, there was a high probability that they were about to cease to exist. Not die…simply not be. Or ever have been. It was an odd feeling. Death he'd thought about plenty of times. But non-existence…somehow that was a whole other ballgame.

And yet he did exist…would exist…just not as he was now. And wasn't that the point. If he could stop the guy in the cabin from ever seeing what he'd seen, knowing what he knew, losing what he lost… it was worth it. And if the price he had to pay was oblivion—well…that wasn't so bad, was it. To forget…to never know…to be…free.

There was an inherent blessing in that. A profound relief. A welcomed respite.

It was…peace.


	2. Part 1

**STARGATE SG-1**

**OUT OF TIME**

**PART 1**

_Infection Plus Four Months_

It was war. And as far as Jack was concerned, any tactic, any strategy, any advantage he could gain was fair game. The people under his command were his responsibility after all, and if he wasn't going to look out for them, sure as hell no one else would. He'd go to George Hammond himself, if that's what it took. Maybe even the Big Guy on the other end of the red phone. But there was no way in hell he was going to let this situation continue as it was: there would be blue jello in the commissary if he had to hunt down every box in the whole damned military.

"Walt…"

"Yes, sir." The sergeant stood in his office door before he could even get his name out. Spooky how he did that. Kind of creepy too. Like the little guy could read his mind. Jack still wasn't used to having someone constantly at his beck and call. Truth be told, he still wasn't used to a lot of things that had come with the increased paycheck, the better parking space and the pair of single stars that now adorned his shoulders. One of them was having Walter treading on his heels at all hours of the day and night. Another was watching his team…he mentally corrected: _Carter's_ team…go off through the gate without him.

Walter's omniscient omnipresence he was coming to terms with; not being able to watch his team's six…well, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to completely get used to that one. The incident with Anubis a couple of weeks ago had brought the whole picture quite clearly into focus. He was The Man now, not one of the team. He couldn't confine his vision to protecting the three of them; their welfare had to be no more or less important than the welfare of every man and woman on the base. And if that meant shooting Daniel, or zatting Carter or locking down the whole damn base for a month, then he was going to have to live with that.

Maybe.

In his head he'd started his resignation letter a half dozen times._ Dear General Hammond, Wish you were here, and I was not…_. So far he hadn't gotten much farther than that. Whether he ever would, he didn't know. Mounting an offense against a fortress of requisition forms didn't exactly inspire him to get out of bed in the morning. But the thought of turning over the SGC to someone who really didn't have a clue as to what was out there wasn't an option either. Too much had been sacrificed over the past seven years to do that to his people. Still, he found himself wondering if the day would ever come when he'd affix his signature to that letter, grab his coat and head out the door without looking back. Something about not knowing the answer to that question bothered him. But then, a lot of things bothered him. Things he really didn't want to think about at that moment.

Not with the jello crisis looming.

"I've tracked the shipment, general. According to the records we should have received three cases of blue raspberry gelatin last week. Apparently there was a mix up and Peterson got two of our three cases. The third is still MIA."

"Good work, Sergeant," nodded Jack approvingly. "Now…."

"I've already contacted Peterson and faxed them the appropriate forms. We'll have our two cases here by 0700 tomorrow."

Spooky. Really.

"Excellent. Well done. Promotion-quality work, Walter."

"Thank you, sir. I'm actually up for review in a few months."

"You'll get my highest recommendation, I promise," replied Jack with a smile. Walter's glance was…indulgent. But then most of Walter's glances were indulgent, Jack decided. He was almost certain the sergeant rolled his eyes every time he walked out of Jack's office.

As he was doing now…except this time he stopped and turned around.

"Sir…if you don't mind my asking…"

"Anything, Walter. Feel free to speak your mind."

A crease furrowed the very high brow of the technician.

"Why was it so important that we track down those boxes of blue jello?"

Jack stared at the man. He had to. If only to stall for time. Because the one answer he couldn't give Sergeant Harriman was the truth. At least not the real truth.

"Balance," he said finally. "It's all about balance, Walter. Too much red jello…too much yellow jello…and, God forbid…too much green jello…it throws the digestion off. And…." Oh boy. He was really struggling here. He swallowed. "It's a sort of…gastronomic…feng-shui…thing…you know…." His voice trailed off. The furrows in Walter's forehead deepened. Good. If nothing else, he'd confused the hell out of the guy.

"Yes, sir," the technician replied in a voice that clearly indicated he didn't buy a word of what Jack was selling. And there was that indulgent look again. Jack didn't care. And really; he didn't have to explain. Not even to himself. It was one of those benefits of that pair of stars. He could do anything he wanted.

Within reason.

And if he wanted to make sure that the commissary always had blue jello on hand—because, maybe it was someone's favorite flavor—then that was totally within his right.

And quite reasonable, as far as he was concerned.

Absolutely reasonable.

Thinking of the jello made him hungry. He'd missed breakfast. Conference calls with the IOA gave him indigestion on the best of days; starting out the morning with Woolsey and his Greek Chorus of pompous international pricks hadn't done much for his appetite. But he was most definitely feeling the lack of food now. Maybe Carter…

No. He dropped the hammer on those thoughts instantly. He couldn't do that any more. Not like he used to. Not like before Shanahan came into the picture. He could sense her discomfort whenever she was around him now. Like a kid who'd just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Half the time these days she wouldn't even meet his gaze.

He knew he shouldn't let it bother him. She was getting on with her life, exactly as he hoped she'd do. He'd held her at arms length long enough that she finally must have talked herself out of those feelings they'd had. The ones they couldn't discuss—ever—because when they almost had, he'd nearly let them cloud his judgment, and he never, ever wanted to go through anything like that again. It was too much like Charlie. Too close to that path that took him to dark places in his soul he never wanted to visit again.

Besides, she needed…someone. Someone who wasn't him, So Shanahan was a good thing. And at the right time too. Time for a clean break all the way around. Her moving on. Him moving on. Accepting the promotion had been the right thing to do. Even if it did leave him stuck in an office that was, ironically, visible to all yet as isolated as solitary confinement.

Confinement he just could not take one more moment of. Maybe Daniel was free. With Teal'c on Chulak for a few days, geekboy was his only hope.

Walter nearly plowed into him as he stepped through the door to the hallway. He couldn't help himself. An expletive escaped his lips.

"Damn it, Walter!"

The technician was apologetic.

"Sorry sir…it's just…they're patching through an urgent call from General Hammond."

Jack glared at him, all hope of lunch fading.

"You couldn't have buzzed?"

If Jack's anger bothered the sergeant he didn't let it show. In fact there was a look of what Jack could only describe as paternalistic patience on the guys' face.

"If you recall, general…you sort of…well…broke that feature off the phone the first week…."

Crap. He had. Damned buzzer anyway.

"Right. Yes. Well…fine, then…put him through," said Jack with resignation, heading back to his desk and sitting down. A moment later the phone beeped. With a sigh he picked it up.

OOOO

Even under the best of conditions it irritated him when he saw Carter force herself to sit still when he entered the room. Today it damn well made him mad when he saw her start to bob up, only to catch herself half way through and sit back down. Not like he wasn't already seething. Only not at her. Unfortunately, she was the proverbial straw.

"Damn it, Carter!" he snapped, much more harshly than he'd intended. "Do I have to glue you to that goddam seat?"

Her eyes widened and the color rose to her cheeks. He suddenly felt like crap—he'd never come down on her that hard for anything…even when she'd inadvertently gated them through that sun. Regret didn't exactly help his mood.

"Sorry…sir," she apologized, looking for all the world like a wounded doe. Jack forced himself to look around the room at anything else except her. What he'd give to rewind those last 20 seconds and do that entrance again.

"Just…" he tried to soften his tone. "Just…knock it off, okay? I thought I'd made that an order."

"Yes, sir." Her tone was formal. He saw her posture straighten, even if she wasn't standing. "Is there something I can help you with, General?"

Damn but that word grated on his ears. It was almost as bad as her popping up like a toaster every time he walked in to the room. He never thought he'd miss "Colonel" this much. It was like someone had given him a completely new name. Not to mention that it just sounded so wrong coming out of Carter's mouth.

Which was completely beside the point at the moment, he reminded himself.

"I just got off the phone with Hammond," he told her, trying to not sound as exasperated as he was feeling. She wasn't the source of his problem after all. No point in taking it out on her. "Something's turned up from the CDC that's raising red-flags at the Pentagon." He sighed. "There's concern that it might be alien in origin."

Carter's brow creased. He could see the wheels already turning.

"The CDC? So it's something…biologic? A virus of some kind?"

Jack shrugged. Hammond hadn't been very forthcoming. That alone had sent Jack's blood pressure up a few notches. When George didn't shoot from the hip that meant someone was sitting on his tail, keeping him quiet. And there was only a handful of people who could do that, three-quarters of whom Jack didn't trust as far as he could throw them.

"They're not sure," he told her. "Hell…they don't even know for sure if it's alien. It might be some kind of lovely home-grown concoction. Probably some kind of bio-terrorism. That's what the CDC is speculating, anyway. But it tripped all the right levers at the Pentagon, and Home World Security wants to make sure it didn't come through the gate. And that is why they're sending someone to review the last six months worth of mission reports—to see if there's any chance we may have screwed up royally and brought something really nasty back with us."

Carter seemed lost in thought. Oh yeah. Those wheels were definitely turning.

"Is it possible it was something Anubis released during the dog-fight over Antarctica?"

He'd actually thought of that…which for some reason made him feel a moderate sense of pride.

"Dunno. I guess there's a chance. It could also just as likely be some guy in a hovel with a chemistry set. We don't know enough yet. But…" Here was the clinker. "I've been ordered to suspend all gate travel until they can get a handle on this. All off-world teams are reporting to the Alpha Site until further notice."

He was at least gratified to see his own irkedness and worry reflected in her face. She was a good barometer. He felt vindicated in his concerns.

"You've got to be kidding!" She wasn't so formal now. "What about Teal'c? He's on Chulak...and what about the Atlantis expedition? They're due to depart in three days!"

Jack sighed.

"Yeah…I already contacted T. Told him he could stay put if he wanted to. And I called Weir and put the trip to Pegasus on hold. Until we can prove we're not the source, for all intents and purposes, we're out of business."

Carter was shaking her head.

"It could take months to sort through those mission logs…besides…post-mission medical examines are SOP. Janet…or Dr. Warner, should have picked up on something if it had come through here."

Jack tapped the top of her table distractedly.

"That's what I told them," he agreed. "But they're sending someone anyway. Some epidemiologist. Supposed to be top in her field, I guess. Look…" he sighed. "I know this person is supposed to be working with Warner on this…but half the time Warner doesn't know his stethoscope from his…butt…and no one can hold a candle to you when it comes to this alien crap." He saw her blush slightly. Just like she had when he'd told her once she was a national treasure. "So anyway…I'd like you to work with her too and try to get through this as quickly as possible. With any luck it'll have nothing to do with us and we can get back to normal in a few days."

Carter nodded.

"Yes, sir. Of course."

Jack felt suddenly weary. Maybe it was the lack of food kicking in again. He momentarily reconsidered asking Carter to join him for lunch, but just as quickly dismissed it. She looked busy any way.

Having nothing else to say except to mutter: "Good," he turned to go.

"Sir…" Carter called after him. "If you don't mind my asking…what exactly is it that's got the CDC concerned?"

Hadn't he told her that? Obviously not.

"Miscarriages," he said, quietly. She looked confused.

"Sir?"

"Miscarriages…you know…babies. Apparently the numbers are off the charts, and no one can figure out why.

"You're kidding?" she exclaimed. "I mean…no…obviously you're not kidding…" she stammered. "But…wow. That's incredibly…."

"Yeah. It is," Jack interrupted her. Somehow talking babies and pregnancies with Carter made him vaguely uncomfortable. "Anyway…Hammond's sending the report. I'll give it to you so you can get up to speed. Lunch?"

Damn. Had he actually said that out loud? It had slipped out before he even realized it. And for the second time in almost as many minutes he wished he could take back something he'd said. She was turning red again and suddenly whatever was on her laptop screen seemed quite captivating.

"Thanks…but…."

"Sure…no problem," he cut her off. He wondered if she could sense how relieved he was. She glanced up at him and tried to smile. It never left her lips.

"A rain check, maybe?" she offered. It was a courtesy. Fine. He'd play.

"Yeah—sure…anytime." He threw the response at her even as he was half-way out the door, unusually relieved to be out of her presence. Oh yeah. That had gone so well. As well as the rest of the day, so far. Maybe there was a remote possibility that things would improve after lunch.

Somehow he doubted it.

Trying not to dwell on the devastated look he himself had personally put on Carter's face, Jack headed for Daniel's office, suddenly bereft of any appetite.

OOOO

There were three messages on the answering machine. As Sam scrolled through the caller ID she could see they were all from the same person and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped from deep within. Pete. Pete again. And yes…Pete the third time. He'd called her three times since leaving Colorado Springs that morning. And it was only one o'clock.

She knew she ought to listen to them. Maybe he'd forgotten something. He'd told her he didn't know the next time he'd be able to get away for a weekend…let alone if the weekend would match up with when she'd be off. So if he'd left something behind…. She glanced around quickly and saw nothing obvious. It probably wasn't anything like that at all, knowing Pete. More than likely he had just called to tell her the he'd had a great time, that he missed her already and that some sappy song on the radio made him think of her.

She shook her head slightly and hung the phone back up on the cradle, ignoring the insistent flashing "new message" light. She wasn't up for Pete at the moment. She had a single scant hour before she had to head back to base and really, Pete was the last person she wanted to think about. Not after how her morning had gone.

And it wasn't likely that the rest of her week was going to get any better.

She eyed the bathroom door and considered taking a long hot shower before going back to work. If she was going to have to hand-hold some epidemiologist until she could clear the SGC, she figured she was going to be spending a lot of time in her base quarters. Which meant foregoing the luxury of a lengthy, private shower for a while. She glanced at her watch to see if she had time. Crap. No. She didn't. All she could do was throw a few items in a bag and grab a quick bite to eat. Not that she was all that hungry anyway.

The General's invitation to lunch came back to her. He'd caught her off-guard with it. She'd almost missed it completely…it had only been a beat or two later that she realized he'd tagged it on to the end of his comment. If she hadn't already planned to visit Cassie at school she would have accepted…but he hadn't even let her get her explanation out. In fact, if anything, she thought he seemed relieved that she'd declined. That had never happened before. Lunch was a usual thing for them. Well…it _had_ been a usual thing for them. Before. She just wasn't sure before what. Was it the promotion? No. Although that had certainly compounded the problem. But it wasn't the promotion. In fact she was pretty sure she could pinpoint the exact day and hour their relationship had been altered. And she knew the person who had altered it.

She glanced again at the blinking light on the answering machine. Pete.

Sam sighed and headed for the bedroom; if she was in for an extended stay on-base she'd need to bring a few extra thing. Grabbing her overnight bag she started packing, but her mind wasn't so much on the contents of her dresser drawer as it was replaying the scene in her lab that morning.

She should have seen it coming, now that she thought about it. The tension between them had been building like an over wound e-string. His behavior around her had been becoming more and more distant for months. Oh he pretended there was nothing wrong…kept up his usual repertoire of quips and commentary. But she knew he'd been avoiding her, careful not to spend any time alone with her if he could at all help it. He had a difficult time meeting her eyes, and it seemed to her that every time he spoke to her there was an edge to his voice that she didn't hear when he talked to Daniel or Teal'c. Today had been inevitable. It was merely an extreme example of what had been bubbling below the surface for a long time.

Still…she didn't quite understand what was bothering him. It had been obvious for quite some time now that those feelings for one another that they'd confessed to so long ago hadn't been quite so enduring on his part. She could understand that. Too many things stood in the way. The team. The regulations. The propensity they had for getting themselves into lethal situations and only escaping by the skin of their teeth. Without anything to feed it, the flame had died. At least on his part. She had carried the torch for quite a while longer. At least until her concussed subconscious on the Prometheus had helped her to clarify a few thing.

What she couldn't quite grasp, however, was, if he had let go of her so long ago, as she'd believed, then why was he behaving now as though he hadn't. Unless she was reading this all wrong, of course—which she supposed was entirely possible. Maybe it had nothing to do with Pete at all.

A cold thought slapped her in the face and Sam stopped, mid-step. What if it wasn't personal—what if it was professional?

Could that be it?

She turned this possibility over in her mind.

Maybe he had his doubts about giving SG-1 over to her. Maybe he didn't think she was ready to head up the flagship team of the SGC. Maybe he didn't believe she was capable of taking command. Maybe he didn't think she was ready.

No. That wasn't it. It couldn't be.

She batted the thoughts away and resumed her packing. If that was what he thought he never would have promoted her in the first place. He'd have given SG-1 over to Reynolds or someone else who was already a Full Bird Colonel.

_I trust you._

That's what he'd told her on the tel'tak when he'd turned command of the team over to her on the way to Proclarush. She remembered the sound of his voice. He'd been slipping away from them even then. But he'd given her a look—it had bolstered her confidence. What had happened after that had come almost by instinct. Right up until she'd seen him frozen in that stasis chamber. Only then had her certainty begun to waiver.

Later, though, he'd told her how proud he was of her—after he'd pinned those silver leaves on her shoulders. And she knew he'd meant it. His eyes had matched the smile on his face for the first time in a long time.

And then it had been back to business as usual.

Except today had been incredibly unusual in far too many ways. On the Prometheus, her concussed vision of the General had tried to convince her that he wasn't that complex. Well…she begged to differ. Jack O'Neill was one of the most complicated, frustrating individuals she'd ever known. Not that that knowledge really helped matters much at the moment.

Sam finished zipping her bag. The complexity of a certain Air Force general had no bearing on anything now anyway. They had moved on. Both of them. So really—what was the point of dwelling on it.

Sam checked her watch. Time to go. She glanced around and the strangest feeling settled over her. It was almost as if she were leaving for the last time. Silly, she knew. But…odd. She wasn't given to flights of fancy and yet some vague notion that she was saying good-bye continued to linger.

Get a grip, Sam, she told herself, grabbing the bag off the bed. As she passed through the kitchen she plucked an orange from the bowl of fruit on the counter. She still wasn't hungry; she'd save it for later.

As she locked the door behind her and tossed the bag in the back seat of her car she paused and looked again. That feeling was back. Like she was taking a last look. Sam shivered involuntarily and slid behind the wheel, wondering if there was anything about this day she was ever going to like.

OOOO

"Tell me we didn't bring this thing through the gate."

Sam watched the General ease himself into the chair at the head of the briefing table. His knee was bothering him, she could tell. She could always tell. He favored it ever so slightly when he walked, giving him a slight loping gait. And the way he sat down, so he didn't have to bend it too fast…although for all the world she knew he hoped he was giving the impression of a lazy, so-what decent into the chair. It only just then struck her how attuned she was to him, how she could read his every movement, understand what was behind his every gesture, interpret what was behind his every inflection…except, of course, when it came to her.

The shuffling of papers beside her aborted her train of thought. Dr. Stanton was passing her a small stack of papers and she slid the duplicate set across to the General. As he reached for them his hand momentarily brushed across hers. Her reaction to his touch startled her: she felt her breath catch ever so slightly. Glancing at him to see if he'd noticed her reaction he seemed absolutely oblivious; Sam relaxed. Well…as much as she could relax under the circumstances. She was tired and more than a little frustrated after spending six days with Dr. Stanton going over mission reports. Things like her CO's hand briefly resting on hers should have had no effect on her whatsoever. She was sure it was just the fatigue.

"I wish I could, General." Dr. Stanton was answering the General's question. "But I'm afraid I can't. Not when I examine the evidence."

Sam heard the General sigh from deep within. Not his long-suffering, "I'll-put-up-with-this-crap-if-I-have-to" sigh, but his "damn-but-I-knew-this-was-coming" sigh. The kind he usually gave when he heard the telltale sound of a weapon being cocked and aimed in his direction. And in this case he was right. There was a really big gun in place and it was targeted right on the SGC.

"Whadcha find?" he asked wearily. He looked at Sam and so she answered.

"That's the thing, sir. Nothing. Absolutely no evidence that any SG team brought anything back with them through the gate. Every medical check came up clean, going back a year."

"So how is it our fault?"

Sam leaned back and let Dr. Stanton take that one. The epidemiologist picked up the remote and aimed it at the monitor. A map snapped onto the screen.

"When we look at outbreaks of disease, we try to follow the trail of breadcrumbs back to the beginning. This is a map of where the current problems have appeared."

The map of the continental United States became dotted with clusters of red.

"If we back off each area in reverse chronological order, based upon when the miscarriages first started appearing, we get this."

Screen after screen blinked by. In each screen fewer and fewer clusters appeared, like watching ripples in a pond shrink rather than expand. One location remained constant throughout each slide: Colorado Springs.

"As you can see, the earliest and…"she switched images so there was a street map of the Springs on the screen. "Densest outbreak occurred right here. In fact, thirty percent of women in the area who miscarried either knew someone who worked at the SGC or at NORAD, or else worked here themselves. There are at least five instances of wives of SGC personnel who miscarried, including Colonel Dixon's wife."

"Oye," groaned Jack. Sam had felt the same way when the data had been presented to her. She remembered Dave's grief at the loss. He moaned a lot about his kids, but she knew he adored his family.

"Even though we haven't been able to pinpoint the exact cause, I think the evidence speaks for itself, General. Whatever this is, it had to have originated off-world. Your people have brought an alien contagion to earth."

Sam couldn't help but shoot a small glare at Dr. Stanton. The woman had been surprisingly easy to work with. She was smart and quick and hadn't been afraid to roll up her sleeves and get the job done; in a lot of ways she reminded Sam of Janet. But she also was sharp-tongued and really had no finesse when it came to the matters at hand. It made her…prickly.

"Carter? What do you think?" The General seemed to have let the epidemiologist's remark slide off him. She felt a twinge of admiration. In spite of what he himself might think, Sam thought he made a fine base commander. His style wasn't exactly the same as General Hammond's, but it was uniquely his.

"I hate to say, it, sir, but I have to agree. Even though our people came up clean, there's no denying the evidence. It may be circumstantial, but it stands up to the rigors of proof. We've got an outbreak of something, and I'm afraid it came through here."

Upon her confirmation of Dr. Stanton's conclusions, the General seemed to deflate. Sam wished she'd been able to contradict the findings, but the facts were too hard and fast to dispute.

"Okay…so…now what. We've already closed down the gate…though that's rather like shutting the barn door after the horse has left, dontcha think?"

"Unless…or until…we know exactly what we're dealing with here, I can't, in good faith, recommend that you bring your people home, General. If they're infected, they could just spread this further. Or start a whole new outbreak. I'll be making my report during this afternoon's conference call with General Hammond and the Joint Chiefs, but I can't in good conscience recommend resuming normal gate travel until we know exactly what we're dealing with here. I'm afraid the SGC is under an indefinite quarantine."

Sam stared at her. They'd never discussed this.

"Quarantine? Why? The virus, or whatever it is, is already out there! How is putting the SGC in a lockdown going to do any good?"

"As I said, Colonel. Containment. We have no idea as to the virulent nature of this thing. It could be incredibly contagious…it could be very limited. We just don't know. I think the evidence points to the former, considering the spread. And I didn't even put up the map of the rest of the world. It's starting to appear in several other countries. We're going to have a world-wide pandemic on our hands if we're not careful. It has to stop here."

Sam shot the General a look. She wondered if he was going to fight this. Fine…the base lockdown she could understand; not necessarily agree with, but understand. But not being able to bring their people home—she was certain the General would argue that point. Even though the Alpha Site was equipped to support a far greater number of people than were there now, it's conditions were still make-shift at best. They'd only just begun to set up a facility like that had here at Cheyenne. She knew that a RED HORSE squadron was there now, working on the site. Still, it was a long way from being done.

The General, though, had his brows knit together, his eyes studying the paper in front of him. She thought she saw a heave of his shoulders as if he were getting ready to give one of his long-suffering sighs, but then he gave a slight shake of his head.

"Fine. Until we hash this out with Homeworld and the brass at the Pentagon, we'll go into lockdown mode. Carter—contact Pierce at the Alpha Site. Tell him he's got some long term guests."

"Sir?" It came out half question, half disbelief. He cast a similar questioning look in her direction.

"What?"

Sam found herself suddenly stumbling for words. In seven years she'd gotten use to giving her CO her honest opinion on most matters. He'd always welcomed them…okay, mostly welcomed them, even if he didn't agree with them. Somehow, though, seeing him now at the head of the table instead of by her side, as they'd become accustomed to sitting while in this room, made her almost second-guess her desire to speak. And yet, she wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't.

"I think stranding our people at the Alpha Site is, quite frankly, overkill. If contamination has already occurred, then exposure is a moot point. It's better to have them here under quarantine than off-world, in my estimation. There's no added risk in bringing them home as long as they don't leave the base."

She saw his eyes flit from her to the woman sitting next to her, and then back. For a moment she thought she saw…something…in his glance at her. Sympathy? Apology? It was too fleeting to tell, and just as swiftly it was gone.

"For the time being my orders stand. No gate travel. You can make your case this afternoon, Colonel. But until then, we're still closed for business." He pushed his chair back and stood…too quickly, Sam noted. There was a slight wince in his face as the knee must have protested. Then, without looking at her, or even lingering for their usual side- bar conversation, he turned and walked out.

It hit her, then. With no less force than a stun gun. Intellectually, of course, she'd known it. But knowing and _knowing_ were two completely different things. He really didn't belong to her—to SG1, she corrected—any more. He belonged to everyone on the base. And everyone on the base belonged to him. It was as if a great chasm had opened between them. So many things had separated them lately. Maybe Pete was only a part of the problem. Maybe the greatest change had in fact come from this.

A profound sadness came over her. Even when she'd accepted that there was no future for them outside of Cheyenne Mountain, she'd taken comfort in at least being able to work with him, be with him, almost daily, even if it was only as friends…colleagues…team members. Now even that was gone. He'd accepted the promotion and walked away, as he had just done now, and never looked back. That closeness, that—bond—had been shattered. It would never be the same again.

She suddenly felt like she'd just lost her best friend.

_Time Incursion #3_

Infection Minus Fourteen Days

_The room was nearly dark. Not quite blinding-light-in-your-eyes dark, like she'd seen in some of the old movies her dad had once shown her, but then again, not too far removed from that either. She'd noticed the observation window high and in front of her when she'd first walked in. Dark forms were moving in its unlit depths. She would have an audience, of that she was sure. And at this point, it was fine by her. This was the farthest she'd ever gotten; the most credibility she'd ever earned. There was of course the small matter of the two armed guards just outside the door. And the fact that this time around they'd flown some NID guy all the way from Washington to interrogate her. But she also knew whose forms those were hovering behind that glass, and she knew if she could get them to believe her this time, it didn't matter what the suit from DC said; she'd have won the game. _

_She heard the door before she saw it open. The slight click might have been imperceptible to most human ears, but not her enhanced ones. They hadn't discovered that about her yet, which was good. The more they figured she was just like them, the less reason they'd have to be afraid of her…and by that fear, doubt her story. Because her story was real. And far too terrifying to ignore._

_The man was tall. Not bad looking, if you went for that type. Personally it wasn't hers, but she could see how, at the time, some women might have found him attractive. Given his size, he might have been intimidating, but for some reason he wasn't. She felt comfortable with him. He even managed a faint smile as he nodded to her, sitting down. Maybe this time was going to be even easier than she'd thought._

_He adjusted the chair slightly and reached across the table to reposition the microphone a little closer to where she sat. She could see the video camera perched on a tripod in the corner of the room zoomed in, she knew, tightly on her face. The Commander had told her to expect this. It was how things were done here. She had to admit it gave her a vague sense of discomfort to be under such intense scrutiny. Still…anything for the mission. There was nothing more important than that. There was no one more important than that. Not even her._

"_I'm Agent Barrett of the NID, and if you're ready, we'll begin," said her interrogator. She nodded. Good. Short and to the point. The sooner she got on with this the quicker it would be over. _

"_For the record, will you please state your name?"_

"_Jade."_

"_And your last name….?"_

"_Jade will do fine."_

_He studied her for a moment, an odd look on his face ever so briefly._

"_Very well. Ms. Jade…."_

"_Just…Jade, please."_

_He raised both eyebrows, a little taken back, but nodded slightly before continuing._

"_As you wish. Jade…you claim to come from the future…approximately…." He studied notes on a notepad he had withdrawn from a briefcase. "Thirty years in the future, to be exact. Is that correct?"_

"_Yes."_

"_And you say you've returned to your past…."_

"_It's not my past," she interrupted him, needing to clarify. "It's earth's past. I won't be born for another two years."_

"_All right…you say you've returned to earth's past so that you can prevent some cataclysm from happening that will set earth on the path to total annihilation."_

"_And the human race to near extinction. That's right," she added._

_Jade could tell Agent Barrett was used to dealing with the nearly inconceivable. He never batted an eye. She liked the man even more._

"_As best as I understand the phenomenon of time travel," Barrett went on. "Isn't what you're claiming to do against the rules, as it were? Don't you risk initiating the Grandfather Paradox by interfering in the past?"_

"_That's the point. I need to interfere. To stop the future from happening. Even if it means that in that future I don't exist. My mission is that important."_

_Barrett frowned._

"_You talk about your mission. Could you explain that a little more carefully for us?"_

"_No."_

_Barrett, who'd been studying his notes, already formulating his next question, snapped his head up and looked at her in surprise._

"_No?" he repeated, obviously taken aback._

_She shook her head to emphasize the point._

"_No. I won't. Not until you let me tell you the whole story. Only when you understand what's at stake here will my mission make any sense to you whatsoever."_

"_I see," murmured Barrett, jotting down some notes._

"_No…I don't think you do," rejoined Jade. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as she'd first thought._

"_Fine, then. We have two hours of video tape in the camera. By all means, let's hear your story." He sat back, crossing his arms and looked at her. A typical defensive posture if ever she'd seen one. So he was indulging her. Well. Perhaps he would change his tune when she was done. She certainly hoped so. She didn't really want to do this a fourth time._

_She could tell in her peripheral vision that the people in the room above were settling in to seats as well. The time had come. She hoped this time she could make a difference._


	3. Part 2

**Out Of Time**

**Part 2**

_Infection Plus Seven Months_

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sam…but you look like hell."

Sam looked up from her untouched plate and blinked at Daniel as he set his tray on the table and sat down across from her.

"I'm sorry, Daniel…what?"

He gave her a half apologetic smile.

"Never mind. Anything edible tonight?" he indicated the food, which matched the contents of his plate. She shook her head.

"Not according to my taste buds. If you're hungry, you're welcome to mine. I'm not sure I can stomach any more Salisbury steak."

Daniel eyed the glutinous gravy and canned mushroom concoction on her plate and shook his head.

"I think I'll pass, thanks." Sam felt his gaze boring into her. She looked up and met his blue eyes studying her through his glasses.

"What?" she asked. Some smart-ass remark about growing a third eye bubbled to her lips but she stopped herself from uttering it. The irritation threshold at the SGC was low these days, hers included. It took extra effort to not snap at the slightest thing. As an officer she needed to set an example. Even if it was only with Daniel.

"Are you okay?" he asked. The genuine concern in his voice made her instantly regret the irritation she'd felt moments before. Trust Daniel to get to the heart of any matter. It was a sneak attack. She looked down at her plate, not meeting his eyes.

"Yeah. Fine. Well…you know. As fine as any of us are, under the circumstances."

She could still feel his eyes on her. She poked at the mashed potatoes with her fork. When she was a kid she used to make lava flows in them so the gravy could run down the side of the mashed potato mountain. She realized she was doing that now and stopped.

"Right. It's just that the rest of us aren't up day and night working with Dr. Warner and Dr. Stanton trying to figure out where this thing came from. And I know for a fact that both of them are getting a whole lot more sleep than you are. Warner's quarters are down the hall from mine and he's in bed by ten every night. And Stanton looks pretty well rested every time I see her in the corridors."

'I get plenty of rest, Daniel," she assured him, glancing up to give him a reassuring smile. He didn't smile back.

"No, Sam. You don't. I know it. Jack knows it. Everybody knows it. All we have to do is look at you and we can tell. You've got us worried. Jack especially."

Sam swallowed a lump in the back of her throat. Daniel's concern—the General's concern—had caught her off guard. She thought she'd been hiding her fatigue pretty well. So much for that delusion.

"Look…I know you want to get your life back. We all do. But you don't have to kill yourself doing this, Sam. It's not like what happened was your fault or anything. And I'm sure Pete understands that sometimes stuff like this happens here, even if you haven't been able to tell him the whole story."

Sam felt her cheeks grow warm. Pete. She'd hardly given him a passing thought these past ten weeks. Not since she'd left a message for him, telling him that she was not going to be around for some indefinite amount of time. He knew enough about what she did to understand that she couldn't say anything more over the phone, let alone on a voice mail, and she'd been quite specific in stating that he was not to try to contact her. After that he had completely faded from her thoughts. Until now. It was Daniel's assumption that her quest to find the source of the contagion was fueled by a desire to get back that aspect of her life that had caused her to blush. He couldn't have been further from the truth.

"That's not why I'm doing this, Daniel. I mean…sure, we all want to get out of here, but that's not the point. They're implying that it was negligence on our part that this happened and I'm not buying that. We've got people stranded off-world we have to bring home! And I'll be damned if I'll sit by and let them shut down the SGC on the General's watch and lay the blame at his feet!"

The words poured out with a passion that surprised even her. She and Daniel held each others gaze for a moment and she saw the light of understanding come over him. His eyebrows shot up and he reached for the salt shaker.

"Ahh," was all he said as he generously anointed his peas. Her face warmed again; for the real reason, this time, and she turned back to her plate, stabbing violently at her mountain of potatoes. Her fork hit the plate and made a sound akin to nails on a blackboard. She winced.

"Anyway. I've…we've got until the end of next week to come up with our findings. The Pentagon and Homeworld Security have been keeping this under the radar for the time-being. Only the President knows about it. But they're going to have to make a decision soon. It costs too much just to turn the lights on around here to be nothing more than an isolation ward. If we can't get to the source of this, they'll mothball the stargate and transfer us someplace else."

"And Reynolds and Dixon…and all those people at the Alpha Site…."

"They'll never get home. At least not for a good long time," she concluded for him. "And who knows when we'll ever see Teal'c again. And it's not like bringing them home is the only issue either, Daniel." She put down the useless fork and hunkered over the table, her voice dropping to a quieter level. "You know as well as I do that Anubis is still out there.. We may have sent him to an ice planet, but I'm willing to lay odds that he's going to show up again. And we can't ignore the Replicators either. Fifth was pretty pissed at what I…what we did to him, so I don't think we've seen the last of them. Without the gate we'll be lacking a whole lot of intel on what's going on in the galaxy. There's very limited power left in the ZPM in Antarctica…who knows if we'll even be able to get the Ancient Chair Platform working again if we need it. Which only leaves the Prometheus and a bay full of F302s to defend this planet. It's not going to be enough, if and when the time comes."

"I thought we had more ships in the queue?" Daniel asked, squinting at his steak before slicing it.

Sam leaned back in her chair and sighed.

"We do…at least three in production, including one for the Russians, and two more on the drawing board. But a lot of those specs are dependent on some Asgard technology we haven't gotten yet. If we bury the gate, we may never get our hands on them."

"Speaking of the Agard…what about asking them for help…or is this one of those "protected planet" treaty things again?" He was inspecting the meat on the end of his fork as though it were some artifact unearthed from an ancient ruin.

"Yeah. Natural disasters and all that. Plus they're still a little busy with the Replicators. Last I heard they were modifying those weapons Colonel...I mean, General O'Neill had designed from the Ancient Database for use on a larger scale. But quite frankly, we're small potatoes compared to what they're facing. I don't think we can count on them, no matter how many times we may have saved their cute little butts."

She saw the corner of Daniel's mouth twitch into a half smile and she realized she'd just echoed one of General O'Neill's often used sentiments about the Asgard. Well, at least she hadn't said "for cryin' out loud"….

"And I guess the Tok'ra are out, after what happened at the Alpha Site."

Sam nodded, looking at her plate again. She hadn't seen her dad in months and had only received a couple of messages from him in that time. She had tried hard not to think about how much she missed him…or what dangers he might be in, now that Anubis had an army of Kull Warriors at this disposal. It wasn't like she didn't have enough to worry about already.

"So…that just leaves us," concluded Daniel wearily. "Or more specifically, you."

Sam gave a humorless laugh.

"Sure. No pressure, right?"

"Yeah," Daniel said quietly. Sam refused to look up. She could tell there was sympathy in his look by the mere sound of his voice. If she gave into it, it might overwhelm her. And she was not at a good place to be bested by her emotions. She had too much that needed her undivided focus. Too many things were at stake here.

"Look…Sam…."

Part of her wanted to throttle Daniel. She could really understand why there were times General O'Neill had told the guy just to shut up. He was relentless. Well intentioned, but relentless.

"I know a lot is riding on this. For everyone. But I'm just saying…we're here, if you need us."

We. With Teal'c stuck on Chulak Daniel could only mean one other person. And of all the people she knew she could not go to, now, for support—emotional or other wise—it was him. Still. Not something she needed to share with Daniel. She forced a smile and placed her empty water glass on her tray.

"Thanks, Daniel. I appreciate that." She stood and picked up her tray. Time to leave. Time to leave as quickly as possible. Because there was work to do, and not a lot of time left to do it in, and not for any reason that remotely had to do with the sudden stinging sensation she felt in her eyes. Without another word to Daniel she dropped off her tray and headed back to her lab by the long route. By the time she arrived, she was ready to go back to work.

**OOOO**

The steam rising from Daniel's coffee mug was mesmerizing. Well, not exactly mesmerizing, but at least it was something to look at, something to focus on while they waited. Normally she'd be the one who'd jumped up to tinker with the video connections when the screen fizzled out, but she was too numb to think much about s-cables and USB ports at the moment. Besides, Sgt. Harriman was more than capable at getting the feed back from the Pentagon, so she just watched the swirling coffee mist float into oblivion and waited.

The screen snapped to life again. The graphic image of the Pentagon was visible once more. Either they were having problems on their end too or they hadn't been ready to start on time, which should have been—Sam checked her watch—five minutes ago. At the head of the table General O'Neill was tapping his pen absently. Was it her imagination or had his hair become more silver in the past weeks? This late in the day it was evident that it had been a good many hours since he'd shaved, but then, as she looked around the table, none of them were looking too shipshape at the moment. Dr. Stanton, across from her, seemed even more taut than usual. Sam sighed inwardly. What had started out as a good working relationship with her had turned into a state of perpetual tension once the quarantine had been established. The hoped for days…perhaps even only a few weeks…had become months. Stanton had not taken it well. None of them had. Even Sam, who was used to long periods of time underground, had found the isolation and lack of freedom claustrophobic. The few hours a day the staff was cycled to the surface for a little fresh air, sunlight and exercise had been woefully insufficient. Not that she'd taken advantage of it very often anyway. There's been too much to do to idle away precious hours on the surface. Too much to do which hadn't resulted, after all this time, in very much at all. It was all she could do to keep from snapping the pencil in her hand in frustration.

Sitting further down the table was Dr. Warner, obviously fidgeting with nervousness. In spite of the General's estimation of his abilities, Sam had found him to be more than capable in the past months, even if his jittery personality did tend to jangle her own nerves from time to time. At least she hadn't gotten stuck will Bill Lee. He'd been on vacation when the whole debacle had begun and had had to sit this one out at home. Sam was grateful for small favors.

"Walter?" The General was looking wearily expectant in the tech's direction.

"We're on-line, sir. We're just waiting for them. Once they…."

He was interrupted when the screen image jumped and instead of the graphic an image of Major Davis appeared.

"Never mind," mumbled Walter and left the room. Sam felt the tension ratchet up a few notches as all eyes focused on the video feed. This was it.

Moments later the image was readjusted so that the view included not only Major Davis but General Hammond and two others. One Sam recognized as General Vidrine; the other general she did not know. It was evident, however, that whoever he was, he was in charge of this meeting.

"We'll forgo the pleasantries, ladies and gentlemen," he said brusquely. "Let's get right down to the point…." He looked directly into the screen and Sam felt as if he was making eye contact with every person in the room. A scowl crossed his face.

"Dr. Jackson…what are you doing there?"

Sam saw all eyes turn toward Daniel. He looked perplexed.

"Daniel's a member of SG-1, sir," she heard herself reply. She was in charge of SG-1 and Daniel was her responsibility. The fact that she hadn't actually invited him to this meeting was of no consequence whatsoever.

The unknown Pentagon general tapped the tips of the fingers of his clasped hands together, the scowl deepening.

"This is a high level meeting of the U.S. military involving very sensitive matters, Colonel. Dr. Jackson's presence is not appropriate."

She heard Daniel clear his throat.

"Excuse me?" He waved a finger in the air as if he might be correcting the spelling of his name. "If I recall correctly, last time I looked I worked for the military…and, in point of fact, I probably have a higher security clearance than half the Pentagon--so if…."

"Oh let him stay, George," interrupted General O'Neill in a tone Sam knew meant he wanted to cut the crap that was going on. "He was here at the beginning. He might as well be here at the end."

Daniel blinked and bounced a look back and forth between General O'Neill and herself. She gave a barely perceptible shrug, but her heart was pounding. There was only one end he could have been talking about, considering their lack of findings. Still…she hadn't expected that it would really come down this way.

"The end? The end of what?" Daniel's voice raised slightly, but no one answered him. At least not directly.

"I'll take responsibility for Dr. Jackson's presence." The baritone voice of General Hammond came over the feed and she glanced back at the screen. Some kind of dynamic was playing out in the conference room in Washington that she didn't fully understand. The unnamed general seemed to assess Hammond's words for a moment and then assented.

"Very well…," he said at last.

"The end of what?" Daniel persisted, even louder.

"…as long as he remains quiet," the other general amended, with a glare at the screen directed obviously at the archeologist. Daniel turned to General O'Neill.

" Jack?"

"Be quiet, Daniel. Or leave."

Daniel's brow furrowed at the ultimatum. Sam couldn't blame him. The General rarely took that tone with Daniel. It had to be the stress. They were all feeling it. And the General had to be feeling it most of all. She found herself suddenly studying her hands, a wave of nausea passing through her. This was her fault. She'd failed him. She'd been so sure she could find out the source of this contagion…to prove that there hadn't been negligence and that things hadn't fallen apart under General O'Neill's command. But the evidence had alluded her. Even when they'd finally isolated the virus, nothing had told her where it came from or how. One day it had not been there; the next it had. And both those days had been since the General had taken command.

Daniel—perhaps from experience, Sam thought—wisely decided to say nothing, although she could tell that a whole lot of things were sifting through his brain. She tried to give him an understanding smile before turning her attention back to the screen. She'd heard her name mentioned.

"…on the findings of Colonel Carter's and Dr. Stanton's reports, we have no other option than to permanently suspend the operations of Stargate Command. For the record, all off-world teams will be officially listed as Missing in Action. Base personnel will be reassigned according to seniority and areas of expertise. General O'Neill…General Hammond has convinced me that your experience is needed here at the Pentagon. Colonel Carter, your background and knowledge of alien technology will be invaluable at Area 51. Other reassignments of senior staff will be forwarded to you later today. A team under the direction of Colonel Steven Jeffries will be arriving from Peterson today to assist with the evacuation of the base. You all have been there awhile and he'll be in charge of making sure everyone gets where they need to be."

Sam's ears were ringing. She felt a rage trembling deep within. All those weeks…all that work….

"So that's it then?" she said aloud, turning to stare directly at the monitor and the triumvirate of faces so safely ensconced in their ivory tower.

"Colonel…" growled General O'Neill warningly. She brushed him with a glance but her attention was focused on the screen.

"Did you have something to say, Colonel?" asked the unknown general. Sam caught the shine of three stars on his shoulder. She didn't care.

"No, sir…she didn't," spoke up O'Neill, loudly, before Sam could get a sound out.

"Yes, sir…I do…." She contradicted him, refusing to meet his eyes because she knew exactly the look he was giving her. She still didn't care.

"You can't just shut down the SGC," she went on, trying to temper the anger in order to make her argument. "There's absolutely no logic in that whatsoever! The virus is out there—closing the gate isn't going to matter one way or another. We have people at the Alpha Site…we can't just abandon them! And if you think the problem with this virus is bad…just wait until we close off our only means of gathering intel on the rest of the galaxy! General Hammond," she looked at the older man's image on the screen, entreating. "You know better than anyone what's out there. You know what's at risk if we try to isolate ourselves from the rest of the galaxy! We might as well surrender right now…because if the goa'uld don't turn us into hosts or slaves, then the replicators will take over and this planet will end up as just so much rubble. If we give up…if we give in…we're done for!"

"General O'Neill…" General Vidrine warned.

"Yes, sir…," rumbled O'Neill, without looking at the screen. He didn't look at Sam either when he spoke.

"That's enough, Colonel."

Sam couldn't believe her ears. The anger stirred again. A heavy thing inside her chest. Anger and grief and…betrayal.

Daniel spoke before she could.

"Sam's right…how can you do this? Of all the short-sighted…."

"Doctor Jackson…" the unknown General snapped. "Your presence here was predicated on the understanding that you would remain quiet. This is a military matter. It's a military decision. Not that I have to explain myself to anyone, but the decision has been made that bringing home the off-world teams could in fact introduce further contamination of some unknown source into the population…'

"There's no evidence to support that!" Sam interrupted.

"Colonel Carter, that is enough!"

The force of the reprimand would have been enough to silence her; the fact that it came from a red-faced General Hammond nearly dropped her in her tracks. He'd only spoken like that to her once before. She went silent, but her heart continued to race.

"What does the IOA say about this?" Daniel spoke up. She cast him a furtive glance of appreciation, but he didn't see it. His eyes were boring into the screen.

"The IOA has been made aware of circumstances which have required the suspension of the Stargate program indefinitely. At some future time we will advise them of the details. In the meantime you will remember that your confidentiality agreements are still in effect and that any discussion about these matters outside the program are strictly prohibited and subjected to legal action." The unnamed General's voice slid over the phrasing with practiced ease. Sam found herself wondering how many times he'd given that same speech. Then it hit her: the IOA didn't know. They were being kept out of the loop. The military…the Pentagon…was keeping this under their hat. They'd probably invented some cock and bull story about a gate malfunction or something. The IOA had no clue what was really going on. A knot as big as her fist clutched at Sam's stomach. This was wrong. All wrong.

"All SGC military personnel are granted sixteen hour leave to prepare for reassignment. Colonel Carter, you are due aboard a transport that will take you to Area 51 at 1130 hours tomorrow; General O'Neill, we'll expect you here by 1800 hours. Colonel Jeffries, as I noted, will advise you of further arrangements."

Daniel was waving a finger in front of him again.

"Uh…what about me…and the other civilians on base?"

Sam saw the three men on the screen exchange looks. General Hammond proceeded to study his hands while the mystery General answered.

"We will provide temporary quarters for civilians off-base until other assignments can be found. Busses will be provided for transportation to that location under the direction of Colonel Jeffries. Don't worry, Doctor Jackson. We won't leave you out in the cold."

"That's what I'm afraid of…," murmured Daniel under his breath.

"If there's nothing else then…." It was more statement than question. "Dismissed."

Sam saw him nod and the screen switched off. She felt sick all over.

Brittle silence filled the room. She almost didn't trust herself to look at anyone. No words would come.

The sound of a pen dropping on a folder was like a gunshot. Everyone jumped. Sam looked at the source; General O'Neill was looking at no one.

"You heard the man, people. Dismissed."

He stood up and whisking the folder off the table walked behind her chair to his office without another word.

"Finally. I can get out of here."

Sam whirled on Eileen Stanton.

"Excuse me?" she replied, icily. The epidemiologist didn't flinch.

"I said, now I can finally get out of here. I'll tell you...if I'd have known this thing was going to take this long, I sure as hell would never have accepted this assignment. Although I suppose I have you to thank for the duration of this agony."

"Me?" The woman's attitude hadn't startled Sam, but her comments did.

"If I heard it once I heard it twenty times from General O'Neill: 'Give Carter more time'. If he hadn't been backing you up on this one we'd have had this meeting six weeks ago. And I'd have been home."

"Oh, I wouldn't count on going home just yet, Doctor," interrupted Daniel. Stanton arched an eyebrow and jutted out her chin. Sam had gotten to know those gestures far better than she ever would have liked to. It was Stanton's classic superiority attitude.

"And just why would you say that, Doctor Jackson?"

Daniel took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose before returning them.

"Oh I don't know…just a hunch I guess. Something about those busses…and not leaving us out in the cold. I have a feeling it's going to be a very long time until we actually get to go 'home'…if at all."

"That's ridiculous. Of course we'll get to go home. Won't we?" Dr. Warner had joined the conversation. Sam had almost forgotten him. He'd been at the far end of the table away from the view screen. She'd had her back to him most of the time.

Daniel just shrugged. His distrust of the military was no secret, Sam knew…and she was usually able to shrug off some of his wilder ideas in that regard. Not this time. Daniel was right. There was something about this whole thing that didn't feel right. Even if they had been under lockdown for months, things were suddenly moving too fast. The rationale was all wrong…it was…flimsy. A paper lion. There was more going on. A whole hell of a lot more. It had been all over General Hammond's face.

And now that she thought about it, all over General O'Neill's as well. He knew. Whatever the hell it was. Damn it. He knew.

That barely supressed anger propelled her into his office without even thinking.

"Sir….this is wrong."

"It's not open for debate, Carter. It's an order. Start packing."

"But sir…."

"Carter…don't make me use my general's voice."

"At least tell me why. Why are we suddenly shutting everything down and locking the doors? Why are we writing our people off and leaving them stranded? What the hell ever happened to 'No Man Left Behind'? Why are Daniel and the other civilians going to be herded off to some kind of internment camp while we get scattered to the four winds? I know you have the answers, sir. Don't you dare tell me you don't know."

It had poured out of her like bitter bile. She had nothing left to hold it in with. He could bust her back to Captain if he wanted to. She didn't care. Not any more.

"That's enough, Colonel," he growled, looking away from her at something she was sure was of no importance on his desk.

"No sir. It's not," she snapped back heatedly. "I need an answer. You _owe_ me an answer."

She saw him wince at her words—wince like he did when someone had struck a particular nerve with him. Like he did when he knew he had no choice but to give it up.

"Carter…aw, hell." There was a weariness in his voice. It struck her that for all the time they'd been stuck on base together for the past months they'd barely seen one another—hardly spoken outside of the exchange of information they'd needed to keep each other apprised of the crisis at hand. She hadn't really looked at him until this meeting. He looked as fatigued and wasted as she felt. God, they were an awful pair.

She saw him glance through the window of this office to the briefing room. It had cleared. No one was in sight.

"Did anyone ever tell you you were too damn smart for your own good?" he muttered. He spared her the briefest glance. "Yeah…you're right…there's a whole lot more going on here…stuff you're not supposed to know about. Stuff they've been keeping everyone here from knowing about once they figured out what was really up."

Fatigue was beginning to replace rage. Nothing the General was saying was clarifying matters for her. She was tired of riddles.

"So what the hell really is going on, sir?" she asked, still hearing the edge in her own voice. "Closing the gate is a mistake and you know it. We do that and we're doomed."

The General finally raised his head and there was a stark look on his face that Sam had never seen there before. It turned her blood ice cold. Worse. It terrified her.

"We're already doomed," he said, so quietly compared to the raging storm of words she'd just unleashed on him that the contrast itself was disconcerting. She struggled to grasp what he meant, yet even without understanding him completely, she knew it had to be bad. Jack O'Neill did not look like that if things were not the absolute worst they could be.

"What do you mean?"

She saw him swallow and grimace, glance back at the meaningless paperwork and then back up at her.

"I mean, we're doomed. It's over. Finished. This world. This planet. It's dying. We're…dying."

Sam shook her head. This wasn't making sense. He wasn't making sense.

"That's not possible. The virus…"

"The virus makes people sterile, Carter. Men. Women. And guess what…also plants and animals. No kids. No food. No oxygen. Not right away, of course…but it's just a matter of time. And while we've been down here trying to figure out how this happened, they've been up there trying to cover it up. But it's getting out of hand now. People are starting to notice. That Donovon woman…the one who found out about the Prometheus…she's been leading the charge…investigating. People are scared. They want answers. There was already one riot last week in Boston. They had to call in the National Guard. It's only the beginning. Once the real story gets out, the whole thing is going to go to hell."

Sam was still shaking her head. He had to be wrong. _This_ had to be wrong. Nothing about it made any sense whatsoever.

A cold chill passed through Sam as a single thought hit her.

"Oh my god."

"Probably not," replied the General morosely. Sam blinked at him.

"The Aschen."

"What?"

"The Aschen…you know the…."

"Yes…I know…the accountants with the megalomaniac complex. What about them."

She stared at him. It was so obvious. Why hadn't they realized it before?

Because they'd been looking at miscarriages, not fertility rates. Who knew…it may have even been deliberately done that way…to keep them off-kilter and focused on the wrong parameter.

"They did this. It's some kind of bioweapon. Like the one they tried to send through the gate the last time. Somehow they deployed it. They deployed it and detonated it and we didn't even have a clue."

"I know."

Sam gaped, incredulous. He hadn't just said that, had he?

"_What?_"

"I said, I know."

She struggled but could find no more words. Finally the General continued.

"It was the fertility stuff that finally clicked in people's heads. Like you said…it's the Aschen's M.O. We don't know how they did it…or even when. But it's done and there's nothing left for us to do except pack our bags and leave. Which I suggest you do. They've given us until 1700 hours to evacuate the base. After that the power will be cut and the door sealed and padlocked. The plan's been in the works for weeks, Carter. There's no way around it."

No. Her mind refused to wrap itself around what he'd just told her. There was no way….

But the look on his face told her otherwise. He'd turned back to the pile of papers on his desk and by his actions seemed to have dismissed her. A part of her still refused to accept any of this.

"General…" she began, but he had had enough. His voice was sharp and brusque.

"Carter! Carter…" he softened it a little on the repeat. "Look…just…go…all right? Go."

He turned back to the papers and studiously ignored her.

Feeling more numb than she had ever thought possible, she walked blindly from the room.

**OOOO**

It was the SF standing outside the door of her lab that was the final straw.

"Personal items only, ma'am," he'd said when he'd first appeared there, orders in hand. She'd glanced at them. A memo from Colonel Jeffries. No files, no disks, no portable data devices, no laptops, no equipment of any kind was to leave the base. She could clean out her quarters, her locker and her desk; all personal items would be subject to inspection. All SGC personnel were to evacuate the base by 1600 hours after which a final sweep of the premises would be done and the facility sealed off at 1700 hours. There would be no exceptions.

It took every ounce of control Sam had not to wad the paper up and throw it on the floor. She took the box the SF had provided and began emptying out her drawers.

Her mind raced over everything General O'Neill had told her while her gut waged a war with itself, alternating between the rage that still was burning deep within and the shock of comprehension. Part of her wanted to deny what the General had revealed to her; it was incomprehensible that earth was going to follow the same path as the Volians. Yet the part of her brain that was always trying to put the pieces of puzzles together, create hypotheses and test them, was blinking the warning light that the evidence was indeed too overwhelming to ignore. How they had done it she hadn't a clue. She supposed at this point it really didn't matter any more. She felt like an idiot having wasted so much time and effort trying to figure that out. No wonder General O'Neill had been avoiding her for most of those long arduous weeks. He'd known. He'd known and he'd let her proceed anyway.

The angry creature in her chest stirred again. A glance at her doorway and the sight of the SF still standing there only fed it further.

Area 51. What the hell was she going to do at Area 51? Alien technology? Is that what they had in store for her? Do-hickies they'd unearthed from ruins that really didn't mean a hill of beans anymore?

No. She needed to stay here. They all needed to stay here. She was still convinced: closing the gate wasn't the answer. In fact, keeping the gate open might be the only solution…the only way to save them all. The Tok'ra…the Asgard…yeah…she knew they had problems of their own…but now that the survival of the whole population of earth was on the table, that would certainly up the ante. They'd have to help. She'd get a hold of her dad. The General could contact Thor. They'd find Teal'c and seek the help of the Free Jaffa. Someone out there had to know something. Maybe even a sarcophagus would hold the answers. All she knew for certain was that if they shut down the gate, their fate would be sealed.

What she didn't need to be doing was sorting through drawers for a bunch of meaningless knickknacks to cart off to a place she didn't want to go. She didn't care what the General had said. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong. They had to fight this. Fight it before it was too late.

The box the SF had brought her was perched on top of the lab table. Sam couldn't help herself. The angry beast launched at it and the box went sailing. The SF rounded the corner into the lab at the sound, his hand reflexively on the handle of his sidearm. Somehow the sight of him reaching for a weapon in her lab—her lab!—was the final insult.

"Get out!" she ordered. "Get out, now!"

The SF looked as startled by her outburst as he had by the sound of the falling box. But it only took him a moment to recover. He shook his head.

"Sorry, ma'am. Colonel Jeffries orders. All SGC senior staff are to be accompanied during the evacuation and are to remain at their assigned station until the evacuation has commenced. We wouldn't want you to get lost, ma'am."

Sam seethed. How dare he.

"I don't give a good goddam what Colonel Jeffries orders are," she snapped. "I don't report to Colonel Jeffries. I report to _General_ O'Neill. And unless you'd care for me to demonstrate first hand some of the hand-to-hand combat training I've received from the Jaffa, I strongly suggest that you let me get the hell out of here and go see _General_ O'Neill as soon as possible."

The SF squared his stance.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. Colonel Jeffries orders. All SGC senior staff are to be…."

"Go to hell," muttered Sam, pushing by him and stalking out the door. She had to get to the General. She had to try again to convince him to fight this. Their future depended on the gate, she had no doubt. She had to make him see that it was their only hope.

The cocking of a weapon behind her made her freeze. A similar sound echoed from the end of the hallway…and again from an area off to her right. If she'd counted right, she had three weapons pointed at her. Reluctantly she raised her hands slightly, closing her eyes in frustration and weighing her options.

"Stop right there, Colonel," came a smooth new voice from the end of the hall. When she opened her eyes she saw a fourth member had joined the party. It could only be Jeffries.

"I need to speak with General O'Neill," she replied firmly. "And I need to see him right now."

"No…what you need, Colonel, is to get your gear together and be ready to go. You leave for Nevada first thing in the morning and I wouldn't count on being able to come back for anything you may have left behind. So why don't you go back in your lab and look around…make sure you didn't forget great-grandma's picture or something…and then we'll escort you to your quarters so you can pick up whatever precious memories you have there as well."

In her mind a well-placed zat blast sent blue arcs cascading across Jeffries body, sending him into a shuddering seizure that lasted nearly ten minutes. But the zats were in the armory, a good two floors down and as much as she would have also like to have torn into him with her bare hands, those three weapons were still pointed her way. She stood there, the rage still burning, her body shaking because of it.

"I need to speak to General O'Neill. And there is no way in hell you're making me leave this place against my will. You don't understand. _They_ don't understand. The gate isn't the threat…it's the salvation. Our salvation."

On the fringe she could see a small crowd gathering—people who'd been complying with the order, probably most of them finally glad to be going home…or at the very least somewhere else.

"You can speak to General O'Neill if I let you, Colonel…and there's no way in hell you're _not_ leaving this place, because orders are orders and I have mine," came his rejoinder. Sam felt the heat rise to her cheeks. If the gawkers hadn't been on the periphery she might have considered trying something. She knew her way around here better than Jeffries and his men…she'd be able to find a way to elude them if she wanted to. Her mind raced with possibilities, but she stood still, taut, ready to act if she had to.

"Oh for cryin' out loud, put those things away!"

She heard him before she saw him. He rounded the corner behind Jeffries with his off-centered stride and her mind vaguely registered that his knee was at it again. In spite of his command, all three weapons continued to be pointed at her.

"Jeffries…I told your men to stand down."

"Sorry, General, but Colonel Carter is being a belligerent, sir. I have my orders from General Highmore. She's to be under military escort until she boards that transport tomorrow at 1130 hours."

"Aw, jeez…" she heard him mutter, running his fingers through his hair. He turned to her.

"Carter…come on …whaddaya doin' here?"

"I needed to see you, sir. They…were in my way. We can't let this happen, General…we can't let them shut down the gate."

"Carter…"

"No, sir…I will not back down on this. You have to talk to them….you have to convince them that the gate is the only way we're going to beat this thing. There's no way I'm leaving here if there's a chance we can find a way to help ourselves. But the answers are out there…not in here. We shut down the gate and we're finished. I'll be damned if I'm going to let that happen!"

"You see how she is, General. I've been ordered….'

"Oh shut the hell up, Jeffries. And screw your orders. Carter…listen to me. There's no way they're going to let you stay…or let any of us stay. I've talked to them until I'm blue in the face. It's over. Now stand down. That's an order. My order."

"Sir," she began, but Jeffries cut her off.

"General O'Neill…I'm sorry, but General Highmore was quite explicit…."

O'Neill cut him off in turn.

"Look…I'll vouch for Carter personally. All right? She'll be on that plane tomorrow at Peterson. Don't worry about it. That's all that matters, right? That she's there? So she'll be there. Now stand your men down…or do I have to get _my_ guys down here to prove that I'm still in command around here until 1600 hours?"

She watched Jeffries turn over the General's words in his mind. She was still breathing hard, the adrenaline racing through her. The spike of rage was abating; in it's place the numbness was returning. She had an eerie sense of watching the scene before her from some remote vantage point, like some twisted play in which she was both audience and actor. _It's over._ The General's own words. She'd known then that nothing she said or did was of any use. He'd given up. Given in. Accepted their fate. Without him behind her, there was nothing she could do.

She saw Jeffries give a slight nod and three safeties clicked back in place. The one weapon she could see lowered and was placed back in it's holster. She hadn't realized it but she'd been holding her breath. She let it out slowly and closed her eyes. When she opened them, Jeffries and his men were walking away. Only the General remained. In his eyes she could see a peculiar look. Sympathy. Or maybe it was pity.

"Get your stuff, Carter," he said quietly. "I think we've overstayed our welcome."

**OOOO**

Hot tears streamed down Sam's face but she brushed them away with an angry swipe. How dare she cry. How dare she let him see her cry. To his credit, if he noticed he said nothing, but kept driving, his eyes straight ahead on the road. It was eerily empty for this time of day. It felt…off. But then everything was off. The whole damned world was turned on end.

Why it should surprise her that he knew the way to her house, she didn't know. He'd only been there a few times, as best she could recall. But he took each turn as if he'd driven there a hundred times before, seeming to even know about the odd little jog the street took before it changed directions and started heading the right way again. Focusing on this mystery gave her something to think about aside from the anger that was seething inside of her. If she gave that anger free reign…if she even let herself brush it momentarily with her mind, she wasn't sure she could trust herself to bring it under control again. She'd had a hard enough time back at the mountain. Only Jack had been able to get her to calm down enough so the SFs had lowered their weapons. And it was only on Jack's assurance that she'd be onboard that transport to Nevada tomorrow that they'd let her leave without a military escort. He'd vouched for her and she wasn't going to betray his trust. Even if it meant remaining silent for the next sixteen hours.

He eased the truck up against the curb in front of her house and turned off the motor. She sat there a moment, looking out the window. How long had it been since she'd been home? Weeks. Months. At some point the lawn service must have stopped coming. The small yard in front was overgrown with grass and tall weeds which had died in the autumn frosts and lay matted in brown, unsightly clumps. The neighbor who collected her papers had given up the effort at some point as well. A mound of decaying newsprint spread across the sidewalk, a mass of gray pulp. She at least had had the mail forwarded to the base…for as long as the mail had continued to come, anyway.

He trailed behind her as she walked through the now overgrown hedge and up the steps. Crisp, rust leaves were piled in the corner of the porch, tangled in cobwebs and staining the concrete black with their decay. The house felt cold and empty, almost resentful at having been untended for so long. The lock resisted at first, but finally relented and let her in. The damp air that greeted her reminded her that the thermostat had been set for summer weather when she'd been here last. A lifetime ago.

"Got heat?" Jack asked, rubbing his hands together as she closed the door behind him. He blew into his hands and she could see his breath…as well as her own.

"There," she replied, pointing to the wall in her small office. Walking over to it, he fiddled with it a moment. At first nothing happened, and then, like an ancient lion slowly waking, there was a grumbling in the basement and the sound of some device slowly coming to life. The stale, slightly singed smell of heated dust rose from the ducts and filled the small space. Jack nodded appreciatively and rejoined her in the hall way.

She led the way down the hall to her living room. A bowl on the edge of the kitchen island was filled with what she now remembered had been fresh fruit. Rotted and moldy, it had sagged to empty nothingness long ago. She heard a click and lights popped on over her head, dispelling the encroaching darkness.

"At least there's still power," Jack noted. "Any food?"

"Help yourself," she waved at the kitchen. "I doubt you'll find anything edible."

He gave her a half smile.

"Edible is in the eye of the beholder," he replied and started opening her cupboard doors. Moments later he had placed several boxes and cans on the counter, and was inspecting a small pouch of tuna he'd discovered. "Any pasta?" he asked, looking up.

Sam sighed. She really didn't have the contents of her cupboards memorized. Especially when she hadn't been home in a quarter of a year.

"Look in there," she suggested, pointing at a high cupboard where she usually kept staples.

Jack reached up and opened the door.

"Aha!" he exclaimed and withdrew a bag of oddly shaped pasta that she now recalled had come in some kind of Christmas gift basket. "I think we have dinner."

"I'm not hungry," she told him, wearily. The anger was ebbing. In it's place a dull emptiness was taking over. A numbness. Why wasn't he feeling it too, she wondered? How could he stand there and calmly make dinner.

"How can you do this?" she asked him, finally. "How can you just come in and start planning dinner and act like nothing is wrong?"

"We've got to eat, Carter. First rule of survival."

"This isn't a mission, sir. It's a reassignment."

"Still. Food comes first. When was the last time you ate anything?"

Sam wracked her brain. She honestly could not say. She remembered gnawing on a nutrition bar yesterday sometime. That was the last thing.

"See…" he continued, as if her mental picture had confirmed everything he'd suspected. "You need to eat. I think you'll feel better after that."

"You gonna tell me a bed time story too?" She couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice. She was being babysat, pure and simple.

"Maybe." The reply was straightforward and completely devoid of the wry comeback she'd expected. "If you're good."

"Yeah. Right."

He set the pans he'd gotten out on the counter and turned to face her, his dark brown eyes locking onto her own. As much as she would have liked to, she couldn't look away. He held her there silently for a moment before speaking.

"Look, Carter—I'm not any happier about this than you are. But for now, I've done everything I can possibly do to stop it from happening, and it hasn't worked. I figure I have two choices: I can do what I normally do and get my ass kicked out of command, at which point I can head to the cabin and wait for the end of the world; or I can take a page out of Daniel's book, make nice and pick my battles. The world might end anyway, but at least I'll go down fighting. And on my terms."

"So you're saying I should shut up and go quietly," she fumed.

"Yes…I mean, no…," he sighed. "I mean…for now, yes. Play the game. It's the only way, if we're to have any hope of turning this thing around."

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from you, of all people!" she exclaimed, trying to figure out just where the Jack O'Neill she knew had gone. "You're the one who taught me to risk everything to do what was right…not what was easy! This is wrong, and you know it. So don't tell me to play along and bide my time. If we let them do this, sir, we'll be as complicit as they are!"

"We're already complicit, Carter." Gone was the congenial tone. His words came out harsh and cold. "We've been sitting on this thing for months while the world has pointed fingers at one another and bandied the T-word around like it's going out of style. Hell…even the IOA was out of the loop on this. I knew it. Stanton knew it. The orders were to keep it quiet and we complied. So our hands are as dirty as theirs. Or at least mine are."

There was a self-loathing in his voice that she'd only heard on a few rare occasions: when he talked about his son, and when he made veiled references to his work in Black Ops. Her heart had ached for him these times—for the pain she knew he could never speak of. Something of that feeling returned now as she listened to him…watched him. He leaned on her counter with both hand, as if somehow he needed to feel the solid fortification of the granite beneath. She could almost forget the sense of betrayal she'd felt earlier at having been kept in the dark about the true nature of the virus. She realized it hadn't been his choice not to tell her. Other people had been pulling his strings. He had done his best to buy her as much time as he could. He had protected her.

Without even thinking about it, she reached out and rested her hand on his.

Touching a light socket would have produced less of a jolt. His eyes met hers with surprise he could not hide. For an instant she thought she saw something she had seen years before when his eyes had found hers in that room with Anise. But as quickly as it was there, it was gone. They both looked down at where they touched as if realizing what had happened and she withdrew her hand.

For some reason the room seemed suddenly colder.

"There has to be something we can do," she managed quietly. Her anger was gone now. At least her anger at him. "Some way…."

"That's why I got Hammond to send you to Area 51…and me to Washington. I figured if I could get you close enough to some of that stuff we've hauled back through the gate all these years you might find something useful." He turned around and opened the door of her refrigerator, hauling out a bottle of beer she suspected had to be long expired. "If I'm in DC I can work on trying to get them to reopen the gate. I don't trust Highmore one bit…hell, if I didn't know better I'd figure him for a damned goa'uld. But Hammond's out-numbered and frankly, the brass have bigger fish to fry than the Stargate right now. All hell is breaking lose out there. We've been at DefCon 2 for a month."

He twisted off the cap and took a long drink. The grimace on his face told her she'd been right about the expiration date.

"Sorry…" she apologized. "That's been in there awhile."

His face was screwed up in exaggerated agony.

"Ya think?"

Sam smiled.

She couldn't remember the last time something had made her smile. Trust Jack….

_Jack._

Her smile froze on her face. She hadn't allowed herself to think of him as "Jack" for a long time. Not since Prometheus. Not since Pete. She'd forced herself to keep him only as the Colonel…and later, the General. Or, of course, "sir". "Jack" was the man who had said he'd cared about her more than he was supposed to; the man who she had thought was long gone. The man she had made herself let go of that day in the infirmary when his "Excuse me?" had made it clear that first names were not an option.

"Carter?"

Her attention snapped back to him out of her thoughts.

Apparently first names still were not an option.

"Sorry, sir. Just…thinking."

To her surprise he pulled on the beer again, made a slight face as he swallowed it, and poured the rest down the sink.

"Lose the 'sir', would you? And while you're at it, the 'General' too. God…every time I hear that I feel the need to stand up and salute someone."

Sam frowned, trying to fathom the reason for his sudden request. And why the request had suddenly left her heart pounding.

"Okay…" she said slowly. There was only one thing left to call him, but she couldn't bring herself to say it aloud. Yet.

He had turned back to the pots and pans and began filling one with water.

"You're still going to make dinner," she said, more in awe now than anger. He glanced up at her.

"You still haven't eaten. Go on—get some packing done. This will be awhile anyway."

She shook her head in amazement.

"I thought you could only grill," she told him "I never knew you could actually cook."

"Well, I didn't exactly see any steaks in there," he pointed out. "But I was raised on this stuff. It's the staple of Minnesota church suppers--my grandmother's tuna hot dish. One part tuna. Two parts noodles. And three parts cream of mushroom soup. Bland, but ever so filling."

He placed the pan on the stove top and threw her a quick smile. For the second time in as many minutes, Sam felt herself smile back.

He was right. The food was bland—and vaguely reminiscent of a dish from a childhood visit to her own grandmother. But bland was good; she didn't think her stomach could have taken anything more adventuresome; it had been living on nutrition bars and MREs for far too long.

"Of course it was missing an essential ingredient—the cream of mushroom soup. You didn't have any. But I made do with that organic free-range chicken broth stuff you had up there. At least that didn't expire until next month." Jack's tone was light. He'd deliberately kept the conversation away from the events at hand. It might have been like any other meal they'd shared over the past eight years. She felt a pang at the realization of how long it had been since they'd just sat and talked like this. As friends. Outside the world was waiting to swallow them up, but here, in her house, at least for tonight, they could pretend it wasn't.

The furnace had finally done it's job and the house was warm. Standing to help clear the table Sam shed the light jacket and sweater she'd been wearing for the past hour. Jack had already taken the leftover casserole and was feeding it into the garbage disposal. Who knew when she'd be able to get home again and the last thing she needed was garbage rotting under her sink in the meantime.

She put the dirty dishes in the sink and turned to go gather up their glasses. Jack must have turned too for suddenly they were wedged together in the small space between the island and her refrigerator.

For a moment, neither of them moved. The same jolt that had gone through her when she'd touched his hand returned. A sudden and unexpected warmth rose in her cheeks and she looked up to see his eyes searching for hers.

They said nothing. There was no need. Unconsciously she shifted and instead of being wedged together they were now pressed up against one another. His lips met hers with a gentle brush as his hand tenderly held her face. Sam's heart pounded in her chest and her thoughts could focus on nothing except the warmth of his body and the touch of his hand and the tentative kiss he had given her. He pulled back, slightly, his eyes searching hers…asking.

In response she reached up and kissed him back, her hand finding the back of his neck, pulling him to her. The second kiss lasted longer. Hunger replaced hesitance. Nothing else existed but the moment. No past. No future. Just now. A now that could have lasted an eternity.

Except it didn't. Breathing was necessary. They broke apart, Sam's breaths coming is short, erratic gasps. She could see Jack's chest heaving as well. The realization of what they had just done swept over her. She leaned against the island for support, her eyes never leaving Jack's.

Her hand bumped something hard and plastic. There was a click. Seconds later a cheery voice filled the room.

"Hey, Sam…it's me. I just wanted to say that last night was…like…I mean…it was fantastic. Wow…you know? I already miss you like crazy and I'm not even out of Colorado Springs yet. Oooh. And there was this song on the radio…it made me think…."

Sam slammed the off switch and Pete's voice vanished in mid-sentence. But it was too late. She looked at Jack and it was like seeing a different person. A mask had dropped over his face. Where there had been passion and longing and need moments before, there was…nothing. Even frozen in Antarctica his face had held more expression than it did now. He took a step back from her and walked over to the table, picking up the glassware she had left behind.

"Jack…please."

She saw him hesitate slightly at the use of his name. It had just come out, as naturally as if she'd been saying it every day of her life for eight years. Except she hadn't, and so at least she had caught his attention.

"That's…that's from a long time ago. A lifetime ago." How could she explain? How could she make him understand that Pete out of sight had been Pete out of mind? That he'd been a poor substitute in the first place? That she'd only been trying to find something that was normal in a life that was anything but?

"You should call him before you leave. Let him know where you'll be."

Jack's voice was flat. Matter-of-fact. Lifeless. He didn't look at her as he brushed by her, taking the glasses to the sink. Sam's chest ached.

"It's not like that. Not any more. It never really was in the first place. At least not for me."

She didn't know if she was making any sense at all. Words—the right words—were escaping her. How had she gone from the mountain top to the valley in so few seconds? How could she make him understand.

"He was there, Jack. You weren't."

Jack froze. He seemed to find the dishtowel in his hand fascinating for several long seconds before he finally looked up. The mask was gone. His deep brown eyes were filled with pain.

"I couldn't be," he told her in a quiet voice.

Sam swallowed. An odd sensation fluttered through her, and she had the sense of a large lens focusing in on this moment of her life. Everything that happened after this was going to be different. Her whole life was about to change. It would all begin here.

She met him, gaze for gaze.

"I know."

And she did. In one fell swoop she did know. The past four years came sharply into focus; things that had made no sense to her before suddenly did. He hadn't stopped caring about her; his feelings hadn't lessened in intensity. He had simply hidden them from her, concealed them, tucked them away and hoped she'd never know. Because he couldn't be there in any way except as he had been. Couldn't be for her the things she'd needed him to be, except as her CO. Couldn't put his feelings…their feelings…ahead of what they'd needed to be as a team on the frontlines.

She knew now. Clear as day.

And quite possibly too late.

"Yeah." He said it practically in a whisper and turned back to the sink.

Sam felt the pit of her stomach drop. She could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers, the heat of his body as he'd pressed against her. But more than that, she had seen the look in his eyes when he'd kissed her the first time. There had been more than desire there, more than the passion of two bodies in close proximity to one another. There was a deeper, more profound emotion that she only just now understood.

He loved her.

Just as she loved him.

Seeing him standing there, now--his back to her, the air thick with tension--she felt as if her heart had been cut open and laid on the table. God, it couldn't end this way, could it? Going their separate ways tomorrow, possibly never to see each other again, having said nothing more?

And yet what else was there to say.

"So."

It was the only thing she could think of.

There was a beat or two of silence before he turned around again.

"So," he answered her, his eyes still veiled. Another period of silence; Sam realized she was holding her breath. If this was ever going to….

"Look," his voice was thick. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea." He winced as though struggling for the right words. His eyes strayed to her face but did not remain there. "You're obviously not going to go AWOL on me, so I should probably go home and start packing too. I can swing by in the morning and pick you up. Drive you to Peterson."

He didn't wait for an answer but began walking toward the door even as he was still speaking. He stopped to pick his jacket off the back of the chair.

"Don't go."

The words were out of her mouth before she knew it. He froze in place, his hand on his jacket. Finally he turned.

"Sam…."

His eyes were troubled. Wary. Wounded. They held hers for a moment and then he shook his head.

"I can't just…this is more than…if we…."

"I know. Stay anyway."

He grimaced.

"I don't think that would be such a good idea."

"Because you don't feel anything for me?"

There was a pause before he answered.

"Because I feel too much."

His words hung in the air like something tangible. Something she could finally hold on to. After all these years.

"Then stay."

He said nothing for a long time. She could see him turning things over in his mind. Weighing them. Weighing the consequences.

"Yeah." He said it with almost fatalistic acceptance. "Okay."

He absently tapped the jacket on the back of the chair with a balled up fist and if anything looked as miserable as she had ever seen him.

Perhaps this had been a mistake. Maybe she should have let him go. But it was too late now. How could she send him away without hurting him even more? And yet how could she ask him to stay when it was so obvious he wanted to be gone.

"Would you pass me the placemats?'

The request seemed inanely out of place, considering the circumstances, but she didn't know where else to go at the moment. Maybe finishing clearing the table would help ease things a bit.

He reached over and picked the two bamboo mats off the table. The edge of the mat caught the glass vase centerpiece and it tipped over, shattering as it hit the floor.

"Crap," he muttered, squatting to reach for the larger pieces. Sam was about to tell him to leave them—she'd get a broom—when he cursed again. A red line of blood appeared along the edge of his hand and began to drip on the floor. She hurried to get a dish towel.

"Let me see that," she told him, reaching out to wrap his hand in the cloth. He snatched it away, holding it in front of him while the blood seeped across his wrist and ran down his forearm.

"For god's sake, Sam…it's only a cut," he snapped, using his good hand to grip the back of the chair and push himself up. Sam stood too; he was bleeding on her floor, not that she cared.

"Jack…." She tried to keep her voice calm. Ignoring his resistance, she reached for his bloody hand and wrapped the cloth around it. She could feel the tension in his body as she touched him, the reluctance with which he let her examine the cut. It was superficial; nothing that required stitches. Nothing too deep. Not like the pain she'd just seen in him. Pain she was feeling just then as well.

Finally she released his hand.

"Look," she said quietly. "If you want to go…I mean…the cut's not bad, but maybe you'd rather….."

Suddenly he was kissing her. She wasn't sure how, or why, but his lips were on hers and with his uninjured hand he was pulling her toward him, hungrily needing her. Her arms were around his neck, her fingers twining through his hair as she tried to let him know that she needed him just as badly.

Just as suddenly as he had started, Jack stopped, holding her at arms length, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, Sam." He swallowed, struggling for words. "I can't…not this way."

That pained look was in his face again. She could tell he was battling something within himself that she did still not understand. She'd offered him a way out, but he hadn't taken it. And yet he still seemed reluctant to stay.

"What way?" she pressed him. "Jack…I don't…."

"This way…." He fumbled for words again. "I would never…I mean…I won't….you're not just…."

At once she understood. Whatever it was that they had—whatever these feelings meant, they went far beyond a single night together. It was more profound than that. It always had been. He didn't want to take away from it by making it seem anything less.

And yet her heart ached at the thought of him leaving. Even one night would be better than none.

The sorrow on his face cut her to the heart. She couldn't help it. She tenderly kissed him.

"Don't…." she whispered, her lips close to his ear. "Please…Jack."

He leaned his head against hers wearily and said no more.

**OOOO**

Sam didn't have the heart to wake him. The precious minutes were ticking away on the clock on her nightstand. In four hours she would have to be on that plane at Peterson, heading for Nevada. She was mostly packed; the drive to the airbase would take 45 minutes. That gave her at least a two hour buffer. Two hours in which she would have been content to do nothing but lie there and watch Jack O'Neill sleep.

A colorless late autumn dawn began to give the room shape and form, but even before, in the dark, she had made out the shape of his face, the line of his neck, the curve of his shoulder. Now she could study the details. The scar above his left eyebrow. Two days of stubble on his chin. The strong jaw line that, when relaxed, gave his face a gentle, tender look. His lips, parted ever so slightly at rest. The silver hair, mussed and tousled. She'd reached out a finger to gently smooth away the creases in his forehead which even in sleep showed the burdens he carried, but she had drawn it back. To touch him would be to wake him, and for all the world, she wanted him to sleep. So she was content with merely watching him, committing every detail, down to the shape of his earlobes, to memory. Eight years she had looked at the man and yet it seemed she was just seeing him for the first time.

And quite possibly the last.

She tried to will that thought away, but she could not. She felt her eyes brim with tears; one escaped over the edge and traced the shortest route to the pillow. She squeezed her eyes shut. She would not cry. She would not give into the grief that would spoil what last night had been. She would not let him see that her heart was breaking with every tick of the clock.

She opened her eyes and found him watching her. He reached his hand and with his thumb wiped away a tear that had stayed on her cheek. Sam closed her eyes again so he wouldn't see the dozen or so more that were ready to take its place. But she knew there was no point in hiding. He already knew and without saying a word, pulled her to him and held her while she wept.

**OOOO**

"I'm sending you Daniel."

Sam stared at the passing buildings as they wound their way through the various hangars that comprised the business end of Peterson. They'd spoken little since loading the truck with her gear and heading out of Colorado Springs. None of it had been personal. The weather. The lack of traffic. A seeming over-abundance of crows. And then silence. Until now.

"I'm sorry…what?" Sam replied, somewhat startled. Her mind had been racing ahead to when she was actually going to have to say good-bye.

"I said I'm sending Daniel to you. I'll arrange it with Hammond. And Highmore. I'll say you need him to help translate all the alien gobbledy-gook on that stuff they've got locked up over there. That way you can keep an eye on him. Make sure he stays out of trouble. Not only that, but we'll know where he is."

"Know where he is?" repeated Sam, not comprehending. She had to force herself to shed the images she'd been forming in her head. They were not constructive.

"I figure this can go down two ways: we either find a cure for it, or we evacuate the planet and hope to hell it doesn't follow us. If it comes down to the latter, there are certain people I want to make sure get off-world. Daniel is one of them."

Sam felt her cheeks flush. Usually she was the one thinking way ahead of the curve. Jack had her beat on this one, though. She couldn't see farther than her plane lifting off the runway. He was planning the survival of the human race.

"That'll be good," she answered. "I'd hate to lose track of him if things get a little chaotic. General Highmore's idea of 'assistance' and Daniel's might not exactly fall in the same category. I'll keep an eye on him. I promise."

The sign for the hangar they'd been directed to appeared on the left with an arrow pointing straight ahead. At the end of the road they turned into a parking lot and the tires crunched to a halt on top of loose gravel. In the distance Sam could see her transport;. It was being fuelled. The reality of her leaving suddenly became that much harsher. She sat for a moment, unmoving, staring at the plane. Jack waited patiently; not moving either; not speaking. As long as she didn't open the door, it wouldn't happen. She wouldn't get on that plane and fly off to Nevada and Jack wouldn't drive back and get his gear and fly in the completely opposite direction to DC. As long as she didn't open that door, time stood still.

She opened the door.

The clock started running.

_**Time Incursion #6**_

Infection Minus Fourteen Days

_It was nauseatingly familiar. Right down to the small stain on Agent Barrett's gray tie. Coffee, probably. She hadn't noticed it the first time. But since this was the fourth time she'd been around this barbeque, small things had begun to stand out. Like the stain. And the fact that they probably weren't any more likely to listen to her this time than they had been the previous five. The Commander had wanted more direct intervention but she'd argued for trying for the least invasive approach again, assuring him that she'd been making progress each time. _

_Which wasn't exactly a lie. She could never lie to the Commander. However, she may have implied that her progress was a little more forward than in actuality it was. She'd hoped this time would be different. At least she'd gotten a little farther with her story before the skeptical look began to creep across Barrett's face. She was determined to push forward, even now. _

"_It was the Aschen. I think you've heard of them," she told him patiently. "In my past, about two weeks from now, SG-1 met up with a nomadic group of aliens known as the Pack. It was a set-up. Not by the Pack, but by the Aschen. Somehow they used the Pack to smuggle a bioweapon to earth. No one knew. No one suspected anything. Not until months later…and by then it was too late."_

_Agent Barrett had stopped writing. A sure sign she'd gone about as far as she could go. Still, it couldn't hurt to keep going. She had to reach someone sometime. Make them see. Understand. Maybe it would be this time around._

"_The first indication anyone had that something had gone wrong was when the CDC began to note an inordinately high incidence of miscarriages. They were clustered in certain geographic areas, like epicenters of little earthquakes, and they spread out from there. Of course it took them a while to figure that out. At first it just seemed like an anomaly. Something localized. But as more and more localities began appearing on the map, the red flags went up. They contacted Homeworld Security. Their first suspicion was that it was an act of international terrorism."_

"_It wasn't," interjected Barrett. She shook her head._

"_No. But it took them a while to sort that out. What made the Pentagon sit up and take notice was that the first outbreak seemed clustered around Colorado Springs. The Springs were always highly monitored by the NID and Homeworld Security because it was figured that if the SGC was ever compromised and there was a foothold situation, evidence of it would show up in the surrounding community sooner than anywhere else. So when the statistics showed that the first outbreak and initially high concentration of fetal deaths occurred here, the powers that be began to suspect that there might have been a alien component to it."_

_Barrett scribbled something down. That was a good sign. Maybe she'd been convincing enough this time._

"_They sent an epidemiologist to investigate. Eileen Stanton. She worked with Colonel Carter and Dr. Warner to establish how and when the weapon may have come through the gate. Meanwhile, there was another problem that was showing up. Sterility, in both men and women. Not only were women having miscarriages, no new pregnancies were being reported. And again, Colorado Springs seemed to be ground zero for the phenomenon. They were pretty sure, by then, that this was an alien attack. It was consistent with the Aschen's mode of invasion that SG1 had seen on other worlds."_

"_Just one other world," corrected Barrett. Jade frowned at her error. Getting things wrong wouldn't help her case._

"_Sorry…I'd forgotten. Yes. Just one civilization at that time. It wasn't until later that we learned how many worlds the Aschen had conquered this way. My mistake."_

"_Continue, please," Barrett told her. The arms were uncrossed now. Maybe she was reaching him. _

"_Once it was confirmed that this was indeed an alien attack, things began to get messy. The military decided that this was something they needed to keep quiet, thinking they could deal with it on their own. Not even the IOA was informed. Things got…messy. There was a lot of blamed tossed around…lots of speculation by those who had no idea about the Stargate Program about the source of the problem. Even those countries who were members of the IOA didn't tumble that it was alien in origin. Not for awhile anyway. And meanwhile the military did it's best to see if there was some kind of cure…some kind of countermeasure they could come up with. They shut down the Stargate and reassigned people. Some they just tried to keep quiet, but others they put where they thought they might do some real good. But by then it was too late. Too late for everyone."_

_Barrett sighed and smiled at her. Uh-oh. She'd seen that look before. At least five times before. This was as far as she was going to get this time._

_The Commander would not be pleased._


	4. Part 3

**Out of Time**

**Part 3**

_Infection Plus Fifteen Months_

"Well, that was certainly a good night's sleep," Daniel yawned as he slid into the chair next to Sam, his tray tipping slightly so that the water in his glass sloshed over the side.

"What?" she asked, trying to avoid looking at his food. The smell of meat had made her nauseous for months now and the fact that Daniel had scored a few rare links of sausage reminded her of this fact. Seeing it wouldn't help.

"What do you mean, 'What?'? You didn't hear the sirens? The perimeter alerts went off again. Someone trying to get into the compound."

"I didn't hear anything. Maybe it was just coyotes. They've been getting pretty desperate lately."

"No more desperate than the people they caught out there trying to break in." He was throwing salt on his eggs—another rare commodity. Sam figured a supply convoy must have made it through. Which was probably why there had been an attempt to break in. People followed food these days like vultures circled dying animals. Unfortunately, there were more dying animals than there were food convoys.

The smell of the eggs did little to improve her appetite either. She folded the foil wrapper around her breakfast bar and stuffed it in the pocket of her oversized BDUs. The powdered orange drink had been over-diluted, but she downed it anyway and eyed Daniel's glass of milk.

"Oh…that's for you," he indicated, following her gaze. "I'll see if I can get another one, if you'd like. But it would have to be later. After breakfast," he added, knowingly.

Sam smiled gratefully as she sipped the milk. She'd stopped asking Daniel questions months ago and just accepted the extra bits of food and milk he was able to scrounge for her. She suspected he'd made some "friends" in the supply depot who were the source of his largesse. She had no idea what kind of deal he'd made with them, and it had bothered her for a while. But as their daily rations lessened and her need increased, her discomfort with his help had diminished. Now it was simple gratitude for whatever he was able to provide.

As long as it wasn't the sausage.

Or the eggs.

The smell wafted past her again, and she set the milk down, feeling it start to rise back up in her throat. Daniel stared at her, his fork half-way to his mouth.

"Sam…? You okay?" His brow was crinkled with concern. She nodded and closed her eyes, willing the gorge back down. Besides being humiliating, she couldn't afford to lose the calories from a breakfast that wouldn't stay down.

"Yeah…it's just…smells, sometimes…." She couldn't help it. She glanced at his plate.

"Oh…sorry. I can go eat somewhere else…."

She put a hand on his arm to stop him as he started to stand.

"No…stay, please, Daniel."

He sat back down, slowly, eyeing her.

"Sam….what's going on? Is there something wrong…is the…you know…" he nodded in her direction. "Is everything okay?"

Sam fought back the instinct to place her hand on her abdomen. Not here. Not in the mess hall.

"It's just…well…she's been very active lately. Doing somersaults. Makes getting a good night sleep difficult. And it doesn't do much for the contents of my stomach either."

"She?" whispered Daniel, leaning in.

Sam shrugged.

"Better than 'it'. Anyway…there's a fifty percent chance I'm right."

"And there's a fifty percent chance you're wrong, which could give him quite an identity crisis later on, you know."

Sam smiled. It sounded like something Jack would say.

That is, if Jack knew.

Her smile faded as quickly as it had come. She tried not to think of that too often.

"What are you working on today?" She changed the subject. Besides, two airmen had just sat at the table next to them, which meant the former topic was now taboo.

"Huh?" replied Daniel, seemingly taken aback by the sudden topic switch. He then spotted the two airmen and insight came. "Oh…umm. Well…let's see. I believe I have an exciting pair of urns awaiting me at my desk from P5X-312. I'm sure once I translate the writing on them it will hold the key to the cure for the Aschen Plague."

"You realize, of course, it's not really a plague, Daniel. It's more of a viral infection."

"Plague. Virus. It gets in you, does it's dirty-work, and then moves on. Unless of course you're one of the lucky ones."

She knew he hadn't meant it the way it came out, but it still stung. She bit her lip and looked across the large steel-constructed building to where the light seeped in through dirty window a good twenty feet over their heads. She hated that her emotions were so close to the surface these days. It took a great deal of her concentration to not let her vulnerability show.

"I'm not so sure 'lucky' is the term I'd use, Daniel," she reminded him gently, still keeping her eyes focused on the distant light.

She felt him shift slightly next to her and she could almost see the distracted look on his face, even though she wasn't looking at him.

"Hmm…what? Oh…God, Sam! No…I didn't mean…I mean, I didn't think…." She finally looked at him. His face was crimson. "Okay…that did not come out right."

Sam smiled slightly but without any real humor. More, really, to just let Daniel know he was off the hook. It was entirely too serious a matter to even treat lightly. Not now. Not when they'd figured out just who the so-called "lucky" ones were…and what they'd done to them.

For all the times Sam had lamented that she didn't have the Ancient Gene needed to activate the Ancient technology they'd found, she was glad now that she didn't. It had taken months, but someone had finally figured out why a small percentage of the population seemed immune to the effects of the Aschen virus: they possessed the ATA gene.

What had been exclaimed over as the possible salvation of the human race had quickly turned ugly. She shuddered as she remembered watching the news feeds. Outside the base…out there, where order seemed to deteriorate more day by day…there had been a horrible backlash. It never ceased to amaze her how quickly hatred and jealousy could surface in the human population. The violence perpetrated on people with the Ancient gene…especially women…had been horrific—further evidence that their civilization was descending into chaos.

It was even worse than when knowledge of the Stargate program had gone public. And that had been bad enough.

As much as Sam wished it had been kept secret, outing the SGC had ultimately been the only way to keep the world from teetering to the brink of World War III. Fingers had been pointed back and forth between nations and terrorist groups with such frenzied fervor that they'd actually gone to DefCon 1 before admitting to the true source of the virus.

Sam wasn't sure even that would have happened if it hadn't been for Julia Donovon. The reporter who'd been on board the Prometheus when the rogue NID agents had hijacked it had been relentless in pursuing the story. It had been evident fairly early on, Sam decided, that Ms. Donovon's knowledge of the Stargate program had made her suspicious about the virus from the start. What she lacked was the evidence.

Sam's conscience only twinged slightly. She'd done what she'd thought was right. Had Ms. Donovon not conveniently gotten her hands on a few of those classified documents, the only thing left on the planet now would be a few radioactive cockroaches. The indisputable facts that the reporter had presented had given Washington and the other member countries of the IOA no choice but to admit to the true source of the plague. The fingers had come off the buttons and the nuclear clock had wound back a few minutes. No matter what the backlash, Sam wasn't a bit sorry. As long as even one human survived in the long run, she didn't regret a thing.

There were some days, though, she wondered why she had bothered. In spite of the violence, when her own government started rounding up people with the ATA gene for their "protection", she'd begun to worry. And not just about Jack. His rank had kept him out of those camps. It was the idea of segregating people for their supposed own good that bothered her. And there was something inherently distasteful about grouping the only people on the planet capable of having children all together. It smacked of a breeding program—something the goa'uld might come up with…or one of those futuristic doomsday movies they'd always made fun of on movie night.

Except it wasn't funny anymore. And it wasn't futuristic. It was here and now and frighteningly real.

Movie night seemed a lifetime ago. Almost as if it belonged to the life of a completely different person, on a completely different world.

"Sam?"

Daniel's voice broke into her thoughts. Mercifully his plate was now clean. She downed the last of the milk.

"Sorry….just…thinking."

"A dangerous thing to do these days. Don't let anyone catch you."

Sam sighed. She was so glad Daniel was here…but she was always dismayed when she could see the great change that had come over him these past months. Jack had sent him to Area 51 as promised, but it hadn't been long after that that the base had become an armed fortress of sorts…no one in…no one out. It began to feel less like a sanctuary and more like a prison, especially to Daniel who was only used to following Jack's rather lose style of command. It hadn't taken long for Daniel's cynical side to develop and Sam had a feeling that if it hadn't been for her and her…uh…condition, he might have totally lost the person he'd been before. But Daniel's innate caring …the part that always came out when it was time to help the underdog…or to stand up for what was right and moral in face of every dire consequence…had leapt to the fore when it came to her. And while she would have liked to believe that she could have managed everything herself if she'd had to, Sam also had to confess that having Daniel's support had made everything a great deal easier for her, especially under the circumstances.

The baby flipped again and Sam looked worriedly at the two airmen at the adjoining table to see if they'd noticed anything. Thankfully they seemed oblivious. If anyone knew…if anyone suspected…she'd find herself off in one of those camps herself. Separated from Daniel. Separated from her work. And subjected to who knew what types of "tests" to see if there was anyway to reproduce her unique set of circumstances in the rest of the population.

Which of course, there wasn't. Not unless the rest of the population wanted to become host to a symbiote.

Which she was sure Anubis…or Ba'al…or any of the other system lords would be happy to provide.

Talk about the devil and the deep blue sea.

Not even Adrian Conrad, with all his money and his minions had been able to figure out how to reproduce what it was she had in her blood. It wasn't anything that would ever allow her to utilize Ancient technology, but it was enough to spare her from the Aschen blight.

It was enough to allow her to become pregnant by someone who did carry the Ancient gene. Someone who she hadn't seen since that day he'd put her on a transport plane at Peterson and stood watching that plane take off until she could no longer see the speck on the ground that was him. Someone who she hadn't been able to tell, for her own safety and his. And the child's.

A child she'd been carefully hiding under oversized BDUs ever since she started to show, five months before. Not that she showed much. Her height helped her. As did the fact that for the first three and a half months she'd barely kept any food down that wasn't crackers or dry toast. Not to mention that now, with rations being a little on the scant side between supply convoys, gaining weight wasn't really a risk anyway. So as long as no one bumped her, and she kept her jacket sufficiently loose, she was undetectable. Thankfully there was no call for dress uniforms these days. If she could hold out one more month….

Sam's blood always went chill at that thought. What would happen then? The only scenario she'd worked out she already knew didn't have a snowball's chance of success. Hiding a pregnancy was one thing; hiding an infant was another. Her only hope was if she could somehow convince one of the base doctors to quietly deliver the baby and then recommend her transfer somewhere else, where she would not be known. A whole lot of things had to happen for that to go right…like deciding which of the doctors might actually be sympathetic to her plight. Then of course there was the matter of the actual transfer itself. R&D, these days, was nominal at best. She was actually surprised that she hadn't already been transferred elsewhere. The military needed soldiers now, not scientists. The fact that she hadn't been sent elsewhere made her think that Jack had something to do with it.

She hadn't spoken with him in nearly eight weeks. With the unpredictability in the power grid over the past few months, communications were sporadic at best. The last time had been entirely too brief…and too public. He'd sounded bad, like maybe he was fighting off a cold. She'd been worried about him, but she didn't dare ask; they'd both been in a room with others on a conference call and at best they'd gotten to exchange the slight courtesies that others would expect from two people who'd worked together as long as they had.

It hadn't been enough. She'd wanted more. More of his voice; more of his words; more of just hearing him on the other end of the call, to make sure he was okay…and that he had no regrets.

She didn't. Well…except one: that she couldn't tell him…didn't dare tell him. Not now. Not yet. If she couldn't figure a way out of this, she might have to. But she didn't want him worrying about her, didn't want him risking anything for her. If there was any hope that the planet would get out of this mess at all, it was on Jack O'Neill's shoulders. Since General Hammond's death, he'd been the only voice of reason—the only one advocating still that they open the gate and evacuate people off-world. He was beginning to gain support…they'd increased production on the number of F303s. But six ships would be a teaspoon in the ocean. The gate had to be opened. He had been as adamant that day on the conference call as she had been when they'd practically escorted her out of Stargate Command. So, no…she wouldn't add to his burden—not if she could help it.

Of course, there was always Daniel…she glanced at her friend who had withdrawn his notebook from his pocket and was pouring over something he seemed to have written years before, if she could judge by the way the ink was fading. She'd asked him once how he'd manage to smuggle that out of the SGC with Jeffries inspecting everyone's personal belongings. He'd just given her a smug smile and avoided answering the question. It was one of those things, she decided, she was just better off not knowing.

"Anything interesting?" she asked. She'd had enough of her own thoughts. They threatened to spiral her down too far. She struggled too hard these days to keep on an even keel…to not be overwhelmed by things that were out of her control. That was perhaps the hardest thing about being here: her inability to take control of the situation. Everything was out of her hands—beyond her reach—not in her purview to act on. Some one else was calling the tune…and she realized just how much she hated that.

"What? Oh…no…not really. I was re-reading my translations of the Volian newspapers. I keep thinking I must have missed something."

Sam sighed. She knew Daniel had read and re-read that translation a hundred times at least. It had taken a while, but they'd finally figured out that there was something inherently different about the vaccine the Aschen had given the Volians and whatever type of bioweapon they'd unleashed on earth. The Volians had gone years before they'd realized what had happened; on earth, although they never had been able to pinpoint exactly where or when or how—even if it had been the day she'd come dropping through into the gate room, leaving Joe Flaxon behind—four years had been a relative blink-of-an-eye compared to the strategy with the Volians. No…whatever they'd done to the Volians, this was different. There was no subtle subterfuge here. It had all the delicacy of a sledgehammer.

"Colonel Carter. Colonel Samantha Carter. Please report to General Seacrest's office at once. Colonel Samantha Carter. Please report to the general's office at once."

The announcement over the loud speaker made her start. She shot a questioning look at Daniel who raised his eyebrows in an equally puzzled reply.

"I wonder what that's about," she murmured. A half dozen scenarios popped into her head; she wasn't happy with any of them. "Guess I'll catch up with you later." She patted Daniel's arm and turned carefully in the chair so she could stand up gracefully. No pregnant woman struggles allowed. She had to keep up the façade. One more month.

What to do after that, she still hadn't a clue.

**OOOO**

If it hadn't been for Walter, he might have cracked long ago. It had been a last minute choice to nab the technician as his aide, but he considered it now a completely serendipitous act of brilliance on his part that he did. Walter had saved him more times than he could count and he pretty much owed the little guy his life.

What life he had.

Which wasn't much these days, all things considered.

Hammond's death had hit him pretty hard. George had been there for him so long—put up with his crap for so many years—been his buffer between the real Pentagon brass and his own ass in a sling, that Jack had honestly wondered how long it would take before he was out on said ass once George was gone. That it hadn't happened—yet—was either a testament to how well he'd learned to play the game, or how desperate times were that they'd decided they needed even a smart ass like him around, in spite of everything. He honestly didn't think it was the former, although he had to admit he'd modified his tactics more than a bit to ensure that things that needed to happen did. Loss of self-pride was a small price to pay for the survival of the planet. And the people he cared about.

Two people in particular. And one of those especially so.

Which was why he owed Walter his life. The chief…Jack had made sure he'd gotten not just one promotion, but two…had wheeled and dealed and snagged him a seat on a flight to Holloman. Not even generals were immune to the consequences of the limited availability of jet fuel. Flights anywhere were maximum capacity and travel was limited to only an "as-needed" basis.

Well, this had been about as "as-needed" as it could get, as far as he was concerned. If he didn't see her…talk to her…make sure she was all right with his own two eyes…well, he'd go nuts, plain and simple. Getting to Area 51 had been nearly impossible, but now that he was in charge of Operation Phoenix, he had oversight of the F303s in production in New Mexico. With Walter's help he'd managed to get Sam transferred there—and trumped up some reason for Daniel to follow as well. Too many things were too screwed up for anyone to question why a civilian archeologist was needed at a ship yard. The papers had been signed and it was a done deal before anyone was the wiser. Yeah…he had Walter to thank for that too.

Which was why he'd left, in his files, the authorization that the chief should be on the first evacuation flight off-world. If anything…happened…Jack wanted to make sure Walter made it. He owed the guy that much.

He wouldn't be standing here now, inside Hangar 42, if it wasn't for him.

"Thank you, lieutenant," he dismissed the young officer who'd escorted him. The man nodded and left. Jack couldn't help feel a momentary pang of pity. He'd seen the defeated look in the young man's eyes. It was the same look he saw on the faces of too many people these days. Resignation. Or anger. He wasn't sure which was worse. It was the anger that drove the chaos…necessitated the martial law…made life outside the secured compounds dangerous if not deadly. But in some ways he understood it better. Not the behavior—never the behavior. But the emotion. Hell. He was angry too. At a lot of things.

But the resignation—the defeat—somehow it was even more insidious. It ate away from within, and that he could never understand. He'd fought too many battles, lost too many friends, sold too much of his soul to roll over and play dead for the Aschen. If Earth was dying and they'd done their damnedest to fix it without success, then evacuation was their only hope. First by ships. And then…if he had his way…they'd get the Stargate open again somehow. He didn't care how many troops were guarding the entrance to Cheyenne Mountain.

"Jack?"

His head snapped up and he blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the sudden darkness of the hangar's interior. Spot lights shone from a hundred different locations on segments of the large ship where workers were hovering like bees.

"Daniel."

"Oh my God…it is you! What are you doing here?"

Trust Daniel to get right to the point.

"Nice to see you too…" Jack replied, archly. Daniel frowned, but where Jack had expected a pithy retort, Daniel's expression became only more shadowed.

"No…seriously, Jack…what are you doing here? Does Sam know you're here?"

A smartass quip popped into his head, but before he could get it out, it occurred to him how thin Daniel looked; drawn and pale. Like he'd lived in this hangar for years, never seeing the light of day. Which of course couldn't have been the case. He and Sam had only been here a week.

The smartass remark died on his lips.

"I'm in charge of Operation Phoenix, Daniel…I hitched a ride on an overbooked plane to get here…and no, Carter doesn't know I'm here."

"Sam."

"Excuse me?"

"Look, Jack…would you just call her Sam, please? I know…I know how it is between the two of you, all right? So you don't have to keep up the whole "Colonel" "General" thing any more…at least not in front of me. Call her Sam…just…trust me on this, okay?"

He studied Daniel closely. The archeologist's speed talking only occurred two times: when he was incredibly excited or when he was incredibly nervous. The obvious lack of really cool old stuff in the vicinity meant it probably wasn't excitement that was agitating him. Daniel was nervous as hell, and for the life of him, Jack couldn't figure out why.

Then he saw her. And he knew.

He knew without even really knowing how he knew.

But he knew.

"Daniel, have…." Her voice died in mid-sentence as she looked up from her data tablet and saw him.

Suddenly it was very hard for him to breathe, as if someone had tightened a band around his chest. His own thoughts peppered him like buckshot. She was beautiful. How he'd missed her. How he loved her. She was pregnant.

How he knew the last one, he wasn't sure. But as sure as he was standing there, he knew she was, even though she was concealing it completely.

She was pregnant. With his child.

With their child.

He almost went weak in the knees.

Instead, he stepped forward, just enough to remind the joints to stay strong. They obeyed and so he stopped moving; he had to or a moment later he would have pulled her into his arms and held her until the end of the world.

She seemed frozen to the spot, her eyes locked upon his. He saw everything there. Things he knew instinctively but couldn't articulate: everything she'd been through, every doubt she'd had; every fear, every need, and a suffering that almost made looking in her eyes unbearable.

"Hey," he managed to croak, his voice suddenly tight and uncooperative.

"General."

His rank struck him like cold water in the face. And brought him back to the reality that he was standing in a hangar at an Air Force Base under the scrutiny of dozens of eyes. Daniel's suggestion not withstanding, he understood. He hoped she did too.

"Colonel."

God she was pale. As pale as Daniel. And almost as thin. She was hiding the bulge beneath an oversized green jacket that she kept buttoned all the way down the front. Anyone not knowing her as well as he did never would have guessed. But he'd studied her too many times for too many years not to know.

If someone had stabbed him in the gut, he couldn't have felt worse. He did the math. Eight and a half months. She'd gone through this all alone without saying a word to him. He knew why—the ATA Gene camps were…well, they were unconscionable. That was one fight he'd lost. Probably the single most thing that had put George Hammond in his early grave. But Sam didn't have the Ancient gene, so how….

Oh hell. He didn't care how. It didn't matter. It was a miracle, as far as he was concerned.

Except maybe it wasn't. She was so gaunt, so wasted. Everything she had had gone to the baby. She looked as if a good strong wind could knock her over. And her hair was long.

He hadn't even noticed that at first…she had it clipped up, but now that his attention had wandered away from her face he could see that she had let it grow out. He'd only seen Sam with long hair once; and that hadn't even been his Sam.

His Sam. That thought alone made him want to pull her into his arms and hold her. But of course that was out of the question.

"What are you doing here…sir?" Only the slight quaver in her voice gave any hint that she was struggling with this as much as he.

"Uh…inspection. See how the ships are coming. See if we need to pull resources from someplace else to speed things up."

That had managed to come out sounding fairly reasonable. The way she was nodding her head and narrowing her eyes, though, told him she wasn't buying it one bit. Which was fine. He didn't need her to. The cover story wasn't for her benefit anyway. She knew perfectly well why he was here. At least he hoped she did.

The way a faint smile glimmered in her eyes, told him he was right. One even appeared briefly on her lips.

"Well then, General…let me give you a tour."

"You think that's a good idea…I mean, considering…uh…." His voice trailed off. Oh oh. Red lights started going off in his head.

She looked stricken. And relieved. And embarrassed. And hesitant. All at the same time. She had just tumbled to the fact that he knew. She threw Daniel an accusatory look, but he shook his head slightly in denial.

"I'm perfectly capable of giving you a tour of the ship, sir." He thought he noted a trace of defensiveness in her voice. It occurred to him that she'd been managing quite well without him for nearly nine months. His last minute riding in on a white horse was really rather inconsequential at this point.

Her strength humbled him. And although he hadn't thought it possible, he found he loved her even more.

"Of course, Colonel. My mistake. Please…lead on."

He nodded in the direction of the enormous vessel. For the moment she looked perplexed, as though she didn't quite believe the serious tone of his voice and was waiting for the quip…the amusing comment. But he was being absolutely sincere. Especially in his apology. He wanted her to know.

Finally she nodded, and with a wan smile, began launching into the technical specifications of the ship. Half of what she said went right by him, but he didn't care. Just the sound of her voice as it rattled off the techno babble he had missed for all these months brought him comfort. Later they would talk. In private. Without an audience. Everything would keep until then. He had her in his sight again. For the moment that was all that mattered.

**OOOO**

He couldn't believe he was nervous. His hand actually hesitated as it neared the door, fisted, ready to knock. He paused and wiped the perspiration off it on his pants. This was ridiculous; he hadn't felt this way since his first date, too many years ago to even remember. Still, taking on a couple of system lords about now would be less anxiety-producing. Exhaling a deep breath, he gave the door two swift raps.

There was no response; but then he heard the muffled sounds of movement on the other side.

He leaned forward and said quietly, "Sam…it's me."

There was a rattle of a chain, the click of the deadbolt and finally a protesting squeak from the hinges as the door opened slightly. Glancing up and down the hall in both directions, he stepped in to one side and the door quickly closed behind him.

She was in the shadows as she bolted the lock and slid the chain back into place, but when she turned, he caught his breath.

Her hair was even longer than he'd thought. It was down now. No more regulation clips. And it was beautiful, framing the face he had loved, it seemed, from the moment she had first called him "sir". And yet, somehow she didn't quite look like herself. Maybe it was the hair, but part of it had to be the hollowness to her face; what had been full and round before was now more chiseled than he remembered. There were dark circles beneath her eyes that the shadows made more pronounced, and even in the dusk she remained as pale as before.

His eyes strayed to the bump she had been so careful to hide. She still had on her overshirt, but it was unbuttoned now. He was no expert, but it seemed to him that she was terribly thin for being so far along. No wonder it had been easy for her to keep her secret.

That weak feeling in his knees started to come again. Thank goodness the entryway was narrow. It gave him a good excuse for leaning against the wall. He looked back up at her face and saw she was watching him. Waiting.

Yeah. Like he knew what to say. His mind drew a complete blank.

"You okay?" He managed finally. For some reason his mouth had gone as dry as the desert outside.

"Yeah…yeah…I'm fine, actually." Her smile was faint. "It's been better this past week. Thanks for getting us out of Area 51. Resources there were…a little scarce."

No wonder she looked like this. He felt like hell. He should have gone out there somehow. He should have checked on her sooner.

"Sam…if I'd had any idea…I never…I mean I'd have…."

"I know. Which is exactly why I didn't tell you."

It hit him. She'd been protecting the both of them—the three of them, he corrected. Because she knew what he'd have done had he known. Moved heaven and earth and everything in between to get to her, to be with her, to protect her. Which ultimately, would have failed, no matter how hard he might have tried. Hell, the only reason he wasn't in one of the camps himself was because his rank and his experience had exempted him. And even with that, he'd been lucky. For all of Sam's brilliance, she would have still ended up there. With all the other poor, unfortunate souls who were, nevertheless, the last hope for the human race.

Which still left him with one question. He still didn't understand.

"But how…?"

It came out badly. Still, he didn't need to elaborate. She understood.

"Jolinar."

She said the name with the same combination of admiration and distaste she always had. At that, she was far more tolerant than he was. That had been the first time he'd almost lost her and he could never quite forgive the Tok'ra for subjugating Sam that way. Not to mention that he couldn't even begin to think of Kanan without iced fury running through his veins. Damned snakes. Every one of them. Except Selmak, of course.

But now it all made sense…well, as much sense as anything vaguely scientific made to him. It was that left over Tok'ra stuff in her blood...somehow it protected her from the effects of the Aschen's damned virus.

"Whoa."

His gut reaction slipped out before he could stop it. He couldn't believe how heartless it sounded.

"Yeah," she said wearily, walking past him toward the living room. "'Whoa' indeed."

That was the problem with not knowing the right thing to say; sometimes the wrong damned thing came out.

Like now.

He needed to fix it.

Instinctively, he followed her, reaching for her arm, but as soon as he touched her, he had to let go. It had been hands-off for so long, it still didn't feel right. And maybe it still wasn't.

She had stopped, her back turned slightly toward him. Jack grimaced. Maybe he'd been wrong. Maybe she could hardly stand to look at him. He was the one responsible for this, after all. That night…at her house…he should have left before…well, he should have left. The last thing he'd wanted was to hurt her. He knew the hell he'd been through since. He couldn't imagine hers. This was his fault. His own goddam fault. It should never have happened.

"Sam…." How did he apologize? How did he ask for her forgiveness? He cleared his throat. Words were failing him again…like always.

She turned then. He looked up, expecting to see some kind of anger or blame. Now that they were alone she didn't have to pretend any longer. He braced himself. He deserved whatever she wanted to lay on him.

But there was no anger. No blame. Her eyes were shining with tears that threatened to spill down her cheek at any moment. God, was it wrong to think she was ten times more beautiful when she cried?

"I've missed you so much…." Her voice was tight. Her nose was even turning pink. It came to him then. She didn't hate him, She didn't even blame him.

"God…Sam…." He wrapped her in his arms and held her against him as tightly as he could. There had been days when he thought he'd never be able to do this again. Dark nights when the memory of that single night they'd spent together seemed nothing more than his own imagination cruelly taunting him. Nightmares where he'd held her again, just like this, only to have her slip out of his hands and vanish like so much smoke, leaving his arms empty and his chest aching.

But this was real. She was real. He squeezed his eyes shut and buried his face in her hair, in her neck, feeling her tighten her arms around him as though she too were afraid he would vanish.

Jack could have stood there forever.

He felt her take a shuddering breath and realized that his neck was damp. She was crying. Like she had when Fraiser died. He'd only been able to hold her then. This time was different.

He brushed her hair away from her face until she finally looked at him. Those eyes. Those incredible eyes. Even red-rimmed and wet they made his pulse quicken. He wiped away the tears that were still on her cheeks with his thumbs, holding her face as gently as he could.

The ache in his chest was too much. He kissed her. Barely. She seemed so slight…so frail…he was afraid….

Until she kissed him back. Hungrily. Passionately. Deeply. Longing stirred in him. The faint beginning of desire. The temperature in the room seemed to shoot up another ten degrees. Her hands were in his hair, at the back of his neck, pulling him in deeper. His brain was shutting down as the rest of his body took over. All he knew was that he wanted once again to touch the softness of her skin, feel the warmth of her body pressed against his, hear her heart beat strong and steady as he enfolded her in his arms.

An unexpected sensation against his stomach wrenched him back to sensibility. Sam stepped back, an odd look on her face, which was now flushed bright pink. He tried to still his breathing, which he realized was coming in short, fast gasps. What the…?

Sam reached for his hand and placed it on her undershirt. He could feel the tautness of her small but extended belly beneath and…and something else. A lump. Two lumps. Two lumps that suddenly moved and shifted position, disappearing and reappearing elsewhere under his hand.

Concerned that it hurt, he tried to move his hand, but Sam kept hers placed over it, her eyes letting him know it was all right. He waited and the child moved again. A poke here. A jab there. An elbow, probably. Or maybe a knee. Another sharp kick. Okay…possibly a foot.

It was incredible.

Not just that he could feel the child, but also that for him, it was for the very first time. Before, with Ch…before, he'd been gone. Stuck in that damned Iraqi prison. He hadn't even known until he'd gotten home.

Just like now. Except this time he'd made it. This time he was here. And he'd be here. There was no way in hell Sam was going to do this alone.

The strong little foot kicked him again, and he couldn't help but smile. He glanced up and saw Sam watching him, waiting again. There was an odd stinging sensation in his eyes suddenly and he tried to look away. She didn't need to see that.

But she had. Her free hand reached up and caressed his face, and he leaned forward to kiss her again. The miracle beneath their hands churned one more time and they both smiled, lips still touching.

And for just the briefest of moments, Jack allowed himself to believe that somehow, in a world that was so totally screwed, everything was truly going to turn out all right.

**OOOO**

"So this is the place you kept threatening to take me?"

She tried to make a joke out of it, but the expression on his face was tight and the smile forced. The closer to the cabin they'd gotten the more grim he had become. She could hardly blame him. Even here, far away from the ravaged cities and the decimated towns, it was impossible to escape the evidence that the planet was in fact dying. The middle of summer in Minnesota should have been green and full of life; but instead the ground was dust dry with dead matted grass and completely devoid of flowers or even weeds. And when they'd gotten out of the car, the eerie silence had sent chills down her spine. There should have been birds singing, insects humming, frogs croaking in the pond. But there was nothing. Just a horrible oppressive stillness that left Sam feeling like they were the last three living things on the face of the earth.

She watched Jack take the small duffle of things she'd brought and head for the front door. Feeling across the top of the door frame, he produced a key, and after struggling with it in the lock for a few moments, was finally able to open the door. He peered inside for a moment…ever wary—even here…before stepping through the door. She followed, with Daniel close behind.

Bringing Daniel with them had been essential. It had also been fairly easy, once Jack had devised a way to get her on a plane with him up to Grand Forks AFB. Orders for Daniel to accompany them hadn't been too difficult to whip up after that. The same proficiency with computers that had kept her off the medical exam schedule for all those months at Area 51 had also conveniently kicked out a set of papers for Daniel that matched the ones Jack had procured, legitimately, for the two of them. The old saying that rank did have its privileges was certainly true. Once at Grand Forks another set of orders had magically appeared, granting them leave off-base and the use of a vehicle from the base motor pool. The remoteness of Grand Forks made off-base travel less of an issue that it did in other locations, and the "no exit/no entry" rule was a little more lax. Which was why it had been the perfect strategic location from which to drive to the cabin.

Now all her body had to do was cooperate.

Inside, the cabin was chilly despite the outside heat. There was a damp smell about it that she associated with old rotting timbers and the smoke from scores of fires. It was fairly evident that Jack hadn't been here in a while. A layer of dust coated everything. Some creature had shredded a newspaper that had been left behind, leaving a trail of newsprint shavings across the floor where it had hauled it prized off to wherever it's nest had been waiting. Cobwebs sagged across the windows that Jack was now opening to let the fresh air in. The breeze stirred up the dust and Daniel sneezed.

Jack had moved on. He flipped switches and nothing happened, eliciting a curse from under his breath. She wasn't sure what he'd expected.

"No lights?" confirmed Daniel. Jack shook his head.

"No lights."

Daniel squinted and looked around, finally spotting the kitchen.

"Water?"

Jack had been pulling open some curtains. The room began to lighten.

"Well," he replied. Daniel waited a moment.

"Well what?" he asked. Sam smothered a smile. There was something about having the two of them together that made the unbearable bearable.

Jack glared at him, and then shook his head.

"Well. _A_ well. As in a hole in the ground out of which water comes. The cabin has one of those."

"Ahhh….but I presume you need something like a pump to get it out of the ground.," continued Daniel."

Jack gave him a long-suffering look.

"You'll find two, Daniel. One runs on power, which we do not have. The other runs on muscle. It's out in the back. Happy pumping."

Daniel blinked at him.

"I'm just saying…I mean we're going to need water. Hot…water…I suppose that's what the fireplace is for, right."

Sam saw Jack glance at her and then sigh. She knew what he was thinking. They'd spent years in one of the most high-tech facilities on the face of the planet and now, when perhaps they could have used it the most, it was almost as if they were tossed back in time to the most primitive situation possible. The irony wasn't lost on her. Nor was the fear. She'd gone nine months without any prenatal care; she had no idea what she was in for. Not to mention that, age-wise, she was in a high-risk category to begin with. Now that she'd managed to keep her pregnancy under the official radar, the reality of having this child had finally settled in. There were so many ways this could go wrong, she didn't even want to think about it. And she had only Jack and Daniel to depend on.

It would have to do.

She'd depended on the two of them for her life plenty of times before. She'd do it again. And for the life of something even more precious. She trusted them. They wouldn't let her down

Daniel disappeared out the door and came back minutes later laden with paper bags. They'd stopped in a small town about an hour back for her to use the restroom and while Jack filled their canteens, Daniel had wandered off. Jack was still waiting for him when she'd emerged and the two of them had begun to think that letting him go off on his own wasn't a particularly good idea. Finally he'd reappeared, paper tote bags in hand and wedged them into the back seat of the vehicle amidst the boxes of MREs and medical supplies they'd "borrowed" from Grand Forks. Only when they were underway again did Daniel share his treasure. Without divulging the details, he'd managed to get his hands on what amounted to a layette for the baby: blankets, diapers, t-shirts, sleepers…not new, but only gently used, by what Sam could see. Another detail she'd forgotten about. She could build a naquadah generator with her eyes shut. Assembling a baby's wardrobe was a whole other ballgame.

"You want to rest?" Jack was watching her, she realized. His dark eyes were assessing her condition, trying to figure out what she needed. She'd seen the same look on a hundred missions where he was always trying to stay one step ahead of the next disaster. "Lay down, maybe?"

Sam's back was complaining from the six hours in the car. And she had an achy, crampy feeling in general. Too much time sitting. She needed to move.

"I think I'll just go outside for a while…walk around," she told him. The dust was getting a little thick in the cabin. Daniel had already retreated out the door again. She could see him rummaging in the trunk, unloading more of what they'd brought.

The sun felt good on her face and the air was moist, not dry as it had been in New Mexico. A slight breeze made leaves dance on the nearby birch trees creating a whispering sound. It was the only one. She walked as far as she felt she should around the cabin. The woods came in fairly close and she could see how, if things were as they should be, the undergrowth would be thick and lush. But in a world where nothing was born, all that remained were the dead stalks from the previous season, a colorless testament to the fact that indeed there once had been life. It was like looking at a graveyard and Sam shivered, even in the warm August heat.

Jack found her standing on the dock. She was looking at the infamous pond. The one without any fish in it, according to Teal'c. She found herself missing him a lot lately, especially now that she had both Daniel and Jack with her. It was like a body missing a limb. She felt incomplete. And she was sure he would have been a pillar of strength for her in the days ahead with his calm voice and enduring confidence in her. She wondered if he had remained on Chulak or had gone to the Alpha Site. She thought of Reynolds and Dixon and all of those who'd been abandoned there and she couldn't stop the cold fury at how they'd been so summarily deemed expendable.

"You okay?" He wrapped his arms around her from behind and she leaned back against him hugging his arms to her chest. For a few moments she was happy to have him take her weight—both literally and figuratively—and she closed her eyes, listening to the slight lapping of the water against the pylons. Jack leaned his head on hers and they just stood there, saying nothing. This was how it was supposed to be. The two of them, here, together. Happy. In a world that wasn't ending.

"This isn't quite how I imagined you coming here," Jack said quietly in her ear. "I had visions of a couple of chair planted about there." He indicated a spot on the dock. "A couple of fishing poles. And hours and hours of doing nothing but fishing."

"You really wanted me to come up here and fish?" she asked, remembering all the times he'd invited her. Fishing for her had taken on a completely different meaning.

"Yeah. What else did you think I wanted to do?"

She couldn't decide if he were being sincere or disingenuous.

"But…Jack…there are no fish in your pond."

"And your point is…?"

She broke out of his embrace and looked at him.

"You can't fish if there are no fish."

"Sure you can. Fishing's all in the mind, anyway. It's a kind of…Zen thing."

There was a twinkle in his eye. He was teasing her now. She was sure.

She moved back into his arms, linking her fingers behind his neck. It was damp with perspiration.

"Ahhh. A Zen thing. Really. I had no idea."

The smile moved to his mouth—a mischievous grin she hadn't seen in so very long.

"Oh yeah. The Zen of Fishing. Don't tell me you haven't read it."

"Ummm," she replied. Somehow they seemed to be moving even closer together, in spite of the bulge between them. The sun on the dock was warm; his body was even warmer. Not that she minded. "Sorry…Motorcycle maintenance is more my thing."

"You hot rod, you," he growled. His lips were tantalizingly close. Ever since they'd left New Mexico they'd kept their distance. He was General O'Neill. She was Colonel Carter. It had been…difficult. More so, she thought, for him. His overwhelming urge to watch over her had been evident to no one else but her, but it was a relief, finally, to not have to worry that they'd give each other away. Now it didn't matter. She lifted her lips to meet his.

"Sam!! Jack!!" Daniel's voice and the sound of his pounding feet brought them both to a grinding halt. She heard Jack let out an exasperated sigh and she dropped her head onto his chest in bemused dismay. Daniel's sense of timing was legendary.

"Sam…Jack…there you are…oh!" Sam turned with Jack, still in his arms, and looked at Daniel who seemed to have just realized what he'd come upon. "Sorry…did I interrupt anything?"

"No," replied Sam and Jack at the same time with the same sigh.

"What is it Daniel?" asked Jack, in a voice that only just barely hid his irritation. The archeologist looked back and forth between them and reddened slightly.

"What? Oh…you have to come. I got the short-wave radio hooked up to one of the batteries we brought. President Hayes has been killed. The government is collapsing. I think the military is ready to step in."

Sam felt sick. Beside her Jack's muscles tightened. Daniel was shaking his head in disbelief of his own words.

"It's all over. It's finished. We've lost—everything. The Aschen have won."

**OOOO**

The ache was getting worse. Coming and going. Tolerable one minute, cringe-worthy the next. She tried not to wake Jack when it came. He had her nestled against him, his arm protectively around her, holding her against him, as if he might somehow lose her if he let go. So she did her best to ride each wave of cramping without disturbing him, using the meditation techniques Teal'c had taught her to ride above the pain. Amazingly it worked…most of the time. When it didn't and she had to change position, Jack changed with her, even though he seemed to remain asleep. It was as if nothing was going to separate him from her, no matter what.

They'd followed Daniel back to the cabin and listened to the horrible news themselves. Jack had been grim. More grim than she'd ever seen him. The consequences of what had happened would be felt around the globe. It was just a matter of time now. Anything that might have been orderly and contained about the evacuation was out the window. In a single day they'd gone from chaos to total anarchy. All hell was about to break loose.

If he were still in Washington, instead of out in the boondocks with her, he'd be right in the thick of things. Maybe he'd have been able to make them understand that now was the time to re-open the gate, forget the ships, and just send people off-world as quickly as possible. But instead of being a reasonable voice in what was likely a cacophony of varied and dissenting opinions, he was stuck here, in the middle of nowhere, waiting on her.

Wasn't this the very thing that had kept them apart for so long? They'd been the frontline team…sometimes the only ones who stood between the bad guys and the doorway to earth. That had come first; it had had to. The very survival of the planet had depended on it. Their personal lives had been secondary…heck, even lower on the list than secondary. Especially when it risked jeopardizing who they were and what they did as SG-1. Which was why Jack had buried his feelings for her so deep that she'd thought they no longer existed.

But now, here they were again. Jack was still on the frontline. It was a different battle now, but it really didn't matter. His place was out there, fighting for the right thing to do, not sitting here holding her hand. And her place…well…she'd done everything she could under the circumstances. And she'd find a way to do more. Somehow. She couldn't sit by either and watch the world disintegrate around her. She'd worked too hard to save it before. And she was damned if this child was going to be born into a world that had no hope.

But that didn't mean Jack had to stay. God…she wanted him to…she admitted it: the prospect of having this child without him by her side terrified her. But she could live with that fear if it meant that Jack could do his job, get them all off this world, find a new home for the human race. Because the world's future was her future. It was their future. And the only way they were going to have one was with Jack out there—not here.

She knew he'd never listen. He'd refuse to leave her side. She knew him too well to think otherwise. She would have to find a way to convince him that it was okay to go…okay to leave her. Maybe in the morning she would recruit Daniel to help. He could be annoyingly logical at times and Jack would listen to him. Maybe between the two of them, they could make him see that his place was back in DC.

The ache returned again with a sudden fierce intensity. Not exactly your garden variety type Braxton-Hicks. It couldn't be…. She checked her illuminated watch in the dark and waited. Sure enough; two and a half minutes later, the assault resumed, intensified, peaked and faded. Sam groaned slightly in frustration.

She was in labor.

There went the plan to get Jack back to DC. There was no way he'd leave her now. And it wasn't like she was going to be able to hide this. Already it was getting to the point where she couldn't lie still any more. She needed to tell him. She needed to have him get Daniel.

"Jack…." She said it quietly so as not to wake him too quickly. "Jack…wake up."

He mumbled something she couldn't make out and pulled her tighter against him. She shook his arm, a little more forcefully this time.

"Jack…wake up."

He was alert in an instant this time, half sitting up.

"What's the matter?" he asked, no longer groggy but wide awake.

"You need to get Daniel," she said. Another contraction was coming. This one was already markedly harder than the last. She closed her eyes and tried to ride it out. She felt the mattress depress beside her and the sound of Jack hurrying out the door. Somewhere on the other side of the pain she heard him call for Daniel before he was suddenly by her side once again. His hand gripped hers and held on until the pain faded and she sank wearily back against the pillow. Even then he did not let go.

"Sam?" His voice was hoarse. Raspy. She didn't need to be able to see his face to know that worry was etched there. The sound of his voice had told her everything.

"Yeah. Better. Thanks." She hoped she didn't sound as shaky as she felt. From the other room she could hear Daniel clattering around and saw a faint flare as he began to light candles.

Right. No electricity.

No electricity. No doctor. No midwife. No wonderful high-tech gizmos.

Just Daniel and a hand pump and a well-stoked fire.

And Jack, by her side, every step of the way.

Sam had a feeling it was going to be a very long night.

**-o-o-o-o-**

_**Time Incursion #7**_

Infection Minus Fourteen Days

"_It didn't take long before word got out. Doctors. Hospitals. Public Health people. There were just too many in the system to think that no one would notice such a trend. And then there was a reporter…a Julia Donovan…who herself had lost a child due to the weapon. She was determined to get to the bottom of what she felt was a conspiracy of secrecy. I don't know if you recall, but she had been the one involved in the incident with the hijacking of the Prometheus…."_

"_I'm aware of it," Barrett assured her. _

"_Thought probably you would be. In any case, she got a hold of some data from somewhere and blew the story wide open. Of course people laughed at her at first. Suggested she go write for one of those tabloid papers, but somewhere she got her hands on some official government documents and then all hell broke loose. World governments who'd been pointing their fingers at each other and rattling their sabers finally had to admit to the presence of the Stargate Program. There was shock. Anger. Fear. And finally, panic."_

"_Panic," repeated Barrett, dubiously. _

"_Yeah. People go a little crazy when you tell them they can't have kids anymore. Go figure, huh? When you throw in that their governments have been keeping from them the fact that they're engaged in a war with at least two other alien races and have, in fact, been traveling to other worlds for the past eight years…well. You can imagine."_

"_Let's say I can't," replied Barrett. "What happened."_

_She sighed. Fine. If she had to paint all the gory details she would. Maybe that's what had been missing before. The horror of it. If they needed horror, she sure as hell could provide it. She knew enough people who'd lived it._

"_Oh, let's see…. Riots. Protests. Every way anger and fear can express themselves. Some actually tried for a more civil process…impeachment, recall votes…but it became harder and harder for people to know who they should blame. So ultimately they blamed everyone. Within a couple of months almost ever major nation was under some form of martial law. Governments were entrenched behind barricades in their capitals. It was a virtual stand-off._

"_Right around then was when the next punch landed. The weapon didn't just affect humans. It seemed to have mutated and affected animals as well. From there it went to plants. In the blink of an eye we were on a dying planet. It was Armageddon."_

"_So, let me get this straight," Barrett interrupted her. "You say the entire population was sterile…and yet you were born a couple of years after this occurred. How did that happen?"_

"_Just lucky, I guess." She wasn't entirely able to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She didn't think he noticed. "Actually…the weapon affected ninety-eight percent of the population. Two percent seemed immune."_

"_Just lucky?"_

_She shook her head._

"_Actually, I think by now you're aware of something you call the Ancient Gene. Those who were able to still have kids all had it…with one or two exceptions. It was a natural immunity."_

"_So your parents had the Ancient Gene?"_

_She tried not to wince._

"_One of them did. The other…well. There were special circumstances."_

"_So you also have the Ancient Gene."_

_She hadn't expected this line of questioning. She squelched an involuntary movement and hoped he hadn't noticed it._

"_No. Like I said, only my…only one of my parents had it. I didn't inherit it. I was born as sterile as any normal human in my timeframe. I'm the last of my family."_

_Barrett was studying her face. She waited. There…it came. The skepticism. Damn. She was so sure she would have gotten through to him this time! The thought of going through this again…._

_But she'd do what needed to be done. As many times as she needed to do it. Except they were quickly running out of opportunities. There were only so many incursions they could make before they knotted this time period up so badly nothing could untangle it. And even if they could, that still wouldn't solve the problem. The alliance with the Pack had to be stopped at any cost. Which was what she was afraid of. The Commander was already planning something more invasive. He'd given her only a few more attempts before he pulled the plug on this approach and launched his own. _

_She had a feeling she was going to need every chance she could get._


	5. Part 4

**Out of Time**

**Part 4**

_Infection Plus Six Years_

"Can I have a dog?"

Jack saw Sam try to hide the exasperated look on her face, even as she kept it carefully focused on the computer screen in front of her. She had warned him the request had become a daily ritual and that no amount of explaining that pets weren't allowed in the compound would stop Jade from asking. She'd hoped that maybe he could get through to her.

"Of course," he replied, hauling her onto his lap and putting his arm around her. He risked a glance at Sam who had looked up from the computer now and was glaring at him. "But not right now," he added quickly.

The little form deflated right before him, her shoulders hunched down and her briefly brilliant smile sagged into a pout.

He pulled her closer so her head rested under his chin and wrapped his arms around her in a bear hug. God, how tall she'd grown since the last time he'd seen her! At least two inches, if he was any judge. But it wasn't just her size; she seemed so much older now, not even a little girl, more of a miniature adult. Which, considering how she spent her days, and with whom, was no surprise.

"Cassie said it was an earth rule—that every kid had to have a dog," she countered from the hollow of this chest.

"It used to be, sweetheart. But not anymore. Lots of rules got changed, and unfortunately that was one of them."

He wouldn't look at Sam this time. He didn't have to. He could feel her regret. Feel it because it was the same damn way he felt every time he saw his daughter. The things she would never know, the kind of life she would never get to live—full of kid-stuff, like dogs and ice cream and trips to the zoo. Regret because he knew she'd never have a future that wasn't bleak, at best. Regret because he had nothing better to offer her than this.

Finally he did look at Sam. She was watching him. In the glow of the computer he could see the tears in her eyes. She blinked quickly and looked down at her keyboard. He couldn't help the lump that formed in his throat. He felt the same way when he saw Jade and Sam together. His heart wanted to burst with joy and sorrow at the same time.

"Do you have to go away again, Daddy?"

Jack settled her more comfortably on his lap and brushed her blond hair out of her eyes. This at least he didn't have to disappoint her over.

"Nope. This time we all get to live together. I don't have to go anywhere any more. I get to stay here with the two of you."

"And Daniel."

"And Daniel," Jack added with a smile. The only way to get Daniel to Peterson with Sam and Jade had been to assure that he had a place to stay. Which meant that Daniel now was their permanent guest. Not like that was a whole lot different than it had been for the past five years.

"Where is Daniel?" asked Sam, looking up. "It's almost curfew."

"He said he wanted to go out and get some fresh air," Jack told her. A small look of disgust passed over Sam's face.

"Like there's much of that," she muttered. She checked her watch. "There's no way I'm going to get these calculations done before they power-down for the night. It's going to have to wait until tomorrow."

Jack nodded.

"Don't worry about it. I don't need them just yet."

She frowned at the screen.

"All it would have taken was one naquadah generator. But they requisitioned all of those for the ships. If we could get our hands on just a little naquadah…or even some naquadria…I could probably mcgyver something that would power the gate. But trying to pull it off the existing power grid…what with the huge gaps there are in it now…I don't know, Jack. It may not be possible."

"You'll work it out. I have faith."

Sam let out long, weary sigh and leaned back in her chair. Jack hadn't noticed before how tired she looked. And thin as well. Supplies at Holloman had been dwindling. Not that Peterson was much better off.

"At least the Council is finally listening. I thought you'd all but given up trying to convince them to use the Stargate again."

"Yeah. Go figure, huh?"

She threw him an odd look, but he managed to avert his eyes before hers made contact.

"I guess it became pretty clear that there were too damn many people to ferry back and forth on six meager ships," he added hastily.

Jade broke away from his embrace and looked at him excitedly.

"Are we going in one of Mom's ships, like Cassie and Uncle Mark?"

Time for another look at Sam. Only this time she didn't look his way. By the set of her jaw he could see she wasn't about to budge an inch on her position. God, she could be stubborn. When she got like that it was like dealing with two Jacob Carters—without Selmak to temper their disposition.

He hated fighting with Sam. Nothing ate at him quite so much as being on the outs with her. Which was why he usually avoided it. Not that they'd ever had much to fight about anyway. Or time to do it, for that matter. But the topic of the evacuation had turned into a touchy subject from the moment the first lists were drawn up. He wanted her and Jade on the ship. She refused.

Point of fact, she refused for herself; Jade she'd agreed to. She'd wanted to send her with Daniel and Cassie and Mark and his family, all of whom Jack had managed to get on the list. But she refused to go herself, no matter how much he argued with her.

"_You'll need me, if you ever have a hope in hell of getting the Stargate open"_ she'd told him. Which was probably true. But he didn't like the thought of her staying behind. He wanted her off and away…to some nice green planet where there was food and clean air and not this ever-expanding terrain of death and decay that was transforming earth into the Planet of the Doomed.

But she was adamant. She wasn't budging. No matter how hard he argued, pleaded or threatened. She had that same damned set of the jaw she had now and that narrowed, icy gaze that meant she was pissed at him for even daring to suggest it.

The gate, though was just one reason. The other, he was sure, was because she simply would not leave him behind. She never said it directly, but he knew. Just as he'd have rather died that day on Apophis' ship rather than leave her trapped behind that force shield, he knew she'd never leave him behind on a planet where getting off depended on a handful of space ships making a return run or powering an intergalactic wormhole that hadn't been activated in nearly seven years. Even if it meant sending their daughter off with a sort of pasted-together family and taking the risk of never seeing her again.

So he'd given up. Not happily. Not even graciously, he had to admit. He was still angry at her for not going. But they'd agreed to not discuss it any further. And in the end they'd decided to keep Jade with them too. And Daniel. Who, when he found out they were staying, had also refused to go. Jack had thrown up his hands in frustration. Why the hell was he working so hard to get everyone off the planet if they all wanted to stay? But at least Cassie and Mark and his family would be aboard the Prometheus when it headed out with its first load of evacuees. And he knew Sam was grateful for that.

"Nope. We are not going on a ship." He tried grinning at her. He knew she had heard their argument a few days before. It was hard not to hear everything in these small quarters. Still, they were better than the tent city that covered most of the base. Even if having Daniel with them did make privacy almost non-existent. He half-suspected that's why he'd disappeared for a "walk" even though it was almost curfew—so the three of them could have some alone time. Had to love the guy. Really.

"Then we get to go through the Stargate?"

He could see the excitement in her eyes. They were brown like his, but in shape and downright meltability, they were Sam's. She looked at the moment like Sam did when she got her hands on some new doohickey. Or at least like she used to. The only time he saw her eyes shine anymore was as they had earlier. With tears. And because she was Sam, even those were few.

"Ya, sure, you betcha!" He plastered on the grin again, grateful that five year olds couldn't tell the difference between real smiles and pretend smiles. He saw his own grin reflected back at him.

"Sweet!" she exclaimed.

This drew a chuckle from Sam, and Jack looked up and caught her eye again. At least she didn't look so melancholy now. Her smile still didn't go to her eyes, but they were warm with affection. She'd told him how much like him Jade was, which he found strange, since every time he looked at their daughter all he could see was Sam. In any case, she'd sure inherited Sam's brains, not his. And tagging along with her mother everyday at the shipyard since she was old enough to walk probably hadn't hurt either. Throw in Daniel's tutoring and yeah, she'd be light-years ahead of him before he knew it. If she wasn't already. He grinned at her again. This time for real.

"Bedtime," announced Sam, shutting her computer down. "We've got fifteen minutes until Power Down. Brush your teeth and get in bed." The child scrambled off Jack's lap and disappeared obediently into the bathroom. "Daniel should be back," she said quietly to Jack. "It's not a good idea to be out so close to curfew. This isn't like Holloman was. It's not safe."

Before he could ask why, the door opened and Daniel walked in. He glanced briefly between the two of them, almost as if doing a threat assessment of his own, Jack thought. Apparently the coast seemed clear; Jack saw him relax and smile.

"Daniel—thank goodness. We were worried," Sam told him.

"She was worried," corrected Jack. "I never once doubted your ability to find your way back."

Sam's expression went dark. She was scowling at him and he hadn't a clue why.

"_What_?" he asked, shrugging.

He saw Daniel and Sam have some kind of wordless exchange. Something was going on. Something he seemed to be no part of. And now that he thought about it, this wasn't the first time either. Ever since he'd arrived this morning he'd felt…well, he'd felt out of the loop. Like an intruder.

"Would someone please tell me what the hell I said?"

Daniel hurried closer, sharing another meaningful look with Sam.

"Keep your voice, down, Jack. These are things Jade doesn't need to hear."

For some reason Daniel's admonition struck him the wrong way. It was completely irrational. Daniel was his friend. He'd stuck with him from Abydos, through the fires of Ba'al's hell to the Antarctic deep freeze. He'd bartered for extra rations for Sam when she'd been pregnant; he'd delivered Jade single handedly; he'd babysat and tutored and befriended his daughter from the moment she was born. He'd been there for her—for them—all the times when Jack could not.

And maybe that was the point.

Something green and molten stirred in Jack's chest. He could feel the bile in the back of his throat. Things he never thought it possible to even consider sprang to his mind. Things that made him feel sick to his stomach.

"Who the hell are you to say what Jade does or doesn't need to hear?" he spat out at last. "She's not your kid. This isn't your family."

Hurt flashed in Daniel's eyes. Good. Let him feel a little pain for a change.

"Jack…." Sam was on her feet now, coming between them. Jack shot her a look that stopped her dead in her tracks.

"Okay…look. I think I see what's going on here. Jack…I understand….." Daniel's voice was quiet. Jack glared at him again. The hurt was gone; in it's place was something like pity. The molten thing inside of Jack burst into flame.

"You don't understand anything, Daniel," he snapped. From the other side of the door he could hear water running in the sink. Vaguely it occurred to him that if he could hear her, she could hear them. At the moment, he didn't particularly care.

Daniel took a step forward, his hands held up in front of him….the same gesture Jack had seen him use a hundred times on missions.

"Actually, I think I do." Daniel's voice was calm, conciliatory; it only served to irritate Jack further. He wasn't some damned off-world primitive who needed to be cajoled. "And so do you, I think," Daniel continued. "You know I could never, ever take your place. She adores you, Jack. Me…" He shrugged, a rueful, half-smile coming to his face. "I'm just Daniel. But you—god! She lives for these times when you come home! Don't…." His eyes wouldn't leave Jack's now. "Don't go doubting what you already know to be true. Sure, it's been hard…hard on you…hard on her…hard on all of us. But don't misread anything here, Jack. You—Sam—Jade—you are my family. I'd never betray you in any way. And I know you _know_ that."

The air hung empty for an eternity.

The green beast died away.

Jack felt the anger drain off as if someone had uncorked a plug. All the baseless accusations, the bitterness, the fear…gone. He was suddenly grateful for the dimly lit room so no one could see the flush of shame he could feel creeping across his face. He was a fool. A stupid son of a bitch. He couldn't meet either Daniel's eyes or Sam's; instead he looked at the floor.

"Yeah."

It was the best he could manage. He hoped it was enough.

"I'm ready."

Jade had emerged from the bathroom and stood there in her pajamas, looking at the three of them. By her small quivering voice he was sure she had heard everything. None of them seemed capable of moving. Outside a loud siren shrieked: the five-minute warning until Power Down. Somehow Jack managed to regain control of his muscles. He still couldn't bring himself to look at either Sam or Daniel. Instead, he walked over to Jade and took hold of her tiny, damp hand.

He hardly felt worthy to do so.

"Come on, sweetheart," he murmured quietly. "I'll tuck you in."

**OOOO**

"There are things about this place you don't understand. I told you—it's not like Holloman. It's…dangerous. And she's got enough to be frightened of. It's not like she needs anything more."

Sam's voice came to him in the darkness where he knew she was sitting up in bed, waiting for him. The small window in the room was of little use. The outside was so pitch black that the room might as well have been windowless, for all the good it did. He still felt like crap. He'd had no right to blow up at Daniel like that. He knew Daniel didn't hold a grudge, but he also knew that Sam still had a few unsaid things on her mind.

"If you're talking about the gang problem, I already know." He sat down wearily on the bed. "It's not just here. It's everywhere."

"It's getting worse. They don't care what they do…or who they do it to. Now that word about the lottery is out, people are panicking. They don't believe the ships will come back for them. They think the Council is lying."

Jack said nothing. The Council was giving lip service to the fact that there were at least a half dozen evacuation runs scheduled each year, now that the ships were ready. He hadn't bought it either.

"They are lying, aren't they."

He could tell from her voice that she wasn't really surprised. He couldn't tell her yes, but he wouldn't tell her no either. So he stayed silent. She understood. He could tell by the disgust in her voice.

"So they just intend to leave the rest of us here."

"We're a drain on resources. Any one who can't have kids isn't worth saving. It's as simple as that. That's why people with the ATA gene are on these first ships out. The survival of the human race is on their back. The rest of us are expendable."

Even in the dark he could sense her anger. Her whole body was tense and he could tell by her breathing that she was seething. He'd gotten over seething long ago. Now there was just a plan.

"They're not interested in getting the Stargate open, either, are they."

"No."

He could feel her looking at him; he imagined the look of disbelief she was giving him.

"Then what the hell have I…?"

"Because I don't give a damn what they're interested in. I'm going to open that Stargate if it's the last thing I do. I don't care if we get ten people through or ten thousand. We've got to give them a chance. We can't leave them here on this god-forsaken planet to die."

There was a tense silence. Pretty much as he'd expected. He knew she wasn't going to be happy with him for not telling her sooner. But he'd had his reasons.

"You've been planning this all along." Her voice was quiet. A very controlled quiet. He suddenly wished he could see her face. Or maybe not.

"Yeah. I have."

More silence. Somehow it was worse than having her be angry at him.

"You didn't tell me." It wasn't a question. It wasn't even quite an accusation. More a statement of fact. A fact he couldn't dispute. Even though he would have liked to, if only to not have to hear the hurt in her voice.

"No. I didn't. But believe me, Sam. I had my reasons. It was for your safety and Jade's. If any word got out about this, well…there are those on the Council who'd be happy to shut me up once and for all. And they'd use any means to do it. Not all the thugs are roaming the alleys of Peterson after dark, you know."

"You can't do this alone."

Just as he'd expected. He was ready for her.

"I'm not. I've got…people. A small strike force. Folks of a like mind, if you will."

"You'll need me."

Yep. There was the falling footwear he'd been waiting for.

"I do. I need those calculations."

He could hear her shaking her head next to him.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it.

Well, it had been worth a try.

"Sam…." But she cut him off.

"Don't 'Sam' me, Jack. You _need_ me on that strike team because no one knows their way around the SGC better than the two of us. And no one knows those systems better than I do."

"We'll bring you in later. After the target's secured."

He heard her grunt in frustration. Oh yeah. Now he really was glad it was dark. He could feel the daggers shooting from her eyes even without seeing them.

"Stop trying to protect me."

"I'm not…"

"That bullshit, Jack. You are. And I understand why. I really do. I don't want to risk leaving her alone without parents either. But the hard truth is—if we don't get that Stargate open, we're all as good as dead. You. Me. Jade. So really, what's the difference? You stand a much better chance of success if I come with you, and you know it."

The bluntness of her words stung. They'd never actually talked about dying before. About what would happen to Jade if…. They'd had so little time together over the past five years—stolen moments whenever he could get to Holloman—that they'd tried to live for the moments they'd had and not dwelt on what the future held. But now it was staring them smack in the face. They couldn't hide from it any more.

Still, he thought he'd give it one more try.

"You can always get on that ship," he told her quietly. "Take Jade and Daniel and get aboard the Prometheus. There's still time, and there's still room. She can still have you and some semblance of a normal life. There is another choice, Sam."

From the sounds next to him in the dark he could tell she was even more agitated.

"Damn it, Jack. That's not fair. We already agreed on that."

"No…we agreed to disagree."

There was a sigh in the dark. It was soul-wrenching.

"Then I guess we still do."

Jack slid into bed. He felt spent. Next to him, Sam settled beneath the covers. He could feel the warmth of her body so near to his, but she did not touch him. In all the years since that first time at her house, they'd never spent the night together not wrapped in each others arms. He felt like he had a great, gapping hole in his side. He felt…alone.

**OOOO**

"Sir…we've received confirmation from the Phoenix that all passengers from the Australian continent are now on-board."

"Is that everyone then?" General Highmore asked, throwing a glance at the tech who'd given him the report.

"I think so, sir. Our connection to the Korliev is sporadic. But at last count, all ships reported ready for lift off," the tech replied.

Highmore nodded. Jack wished to hell he could wipe the smug smile off the bastard's face. He was the architect of this evacuation sham. He and his damned NID buddies. And it was a sham, down to the last detail. It had taken five years to build the ships. Five years, when it should have taken two…three tops. Jack had fought for every resource, every scrap, every worker he could get for Sam, but every time he turned around the rat-bastard Highmore had blocked his way.

It had taken Jack a while to figure out who was pulling the strings. For all of Highmore's altruistic lip-service to saving all the people of earth, he'd really only been concerned with the ATA carriers. And then, only a subset of those: any man or woman…or soon to be man or woman…who could father or conceive a child. Anyone else who turned out to be too old, or too ill or shown to be infertile, over the five years had somehow managed to be rotated off the first-run evacuee list. In their place a whole lot of upper echelon brass—especially those with close NID ties—and their families, as well as a few surviving leaders from the various ruling council countries were added under the rationale that when the ships arrived at P5X-244, or "New Earth" as Highmore had dubbed it, they'd have their governing body with them.

It had smelled of a bug-out to Jack, even then, Then he'd actually seen the orders; orders that hadn't been meant for his eyes because he was still the biggest pain in the Council's collective asses and they knew he'd raise hell. Which, when he found out the ships were one-way only, he had.

And that was when the threat had come. The anonymous memo had appeared on his desk—how screwed up was a world where people killed each other daily for food but he kept getting memos—Cassandra Fraiser: _Denied_; Mark Carter: _Denied_. Mark's wife and their two children were also listed…with "Denied" in bold red letters behind their names. And then:

Dr. Daniel Jackson _Denied_; Colonel Samantha Carter: _Denied_. Jade Carter (minor): _Denied_.

It had made Jack's blood run cold. He was no saint; he didn't deny he'd pulled every string he could to get the people he and Sam cared most about on the Prometheus. And then he'd all but sold the rest of his soul to secure spots for Daniel, Sam and Jade. Three spots which were now occupied by a woman and her two children whom Daniel had befriended back at Holloman.

But the threat had worked. He'd shut up about the evacuation and for the second time in recent memory pretended to toe the party line. The final evacuation lists had come out and Cassie and the others were on it. Which was all he'd been waiting for. After that, he'd gone to work.

It had taken some doing. Months of cautiously finding those who felt, as he did, that screwing over the rest of the planet just because they lacked a certain gene amounted to little more than mass murder. Gradually he'd put together a strike force: John Sheppard, who should have been on the transport, was the first to volunteer; Cameron Mitchell—one of the pilots shot down in the Antarctic battle with Anubis;. Evan Lorne, who liked to paint, Jack had discovered, but who'd proven himself to be quick-thinking in a crisis when the compound he'd been assigned to had broken out into a riot.; Patrick Bishop, Laura Cadman and Aiden Ford—all cool headed, smart and dependable. And now Carter.

_Carter_. He'd made himself think of her this way as far as the mission was concerned. His brilliant and capable 2IC. She couldn't be Sam now. Not his friend. Not his lover. Not the woman who, under any other circumstances, he would have married years ago. Not the mother of his child. Just…Carter. It was the only way he could handle it. The only way he trusted himself to handle it.

And now they were good to go. Carter had done her calculations and the news had been unexpectedly good. Assuming they were able to get to and hold the SGC, and assuming that their inside person at Power Management was able to flip the right switches, they'd be able to power up the Stargate twice a day for nearly two months. Of course, getting people to it…and then through it…was a different matter. He had plans for that too. But first things first.

"Mission is a go. Resume countdown." Highmore's voice intoned. Jack risked a glance in Sam's direction. It had been her stroke of genius to suggest that NORAD be used as mission control. It gave them both access to Cheyenne Mountain and with the proper clearance. Just knowing the Stargate was a mere 28 floors below him, almost made Jack giddy. Whether or not it was having the same effect on Sam, he couldn't tell. She was focused on the task at hand, headset on, watching the monitor feeds of the six ships as the countdown neared zero. Sham or not, these ships were her babies. Her design, modified as best they could, to run off the model of the Prometheus. Half the systems she'd reversed engineered herself, and the other half…well, Jack didn't understand a third of it even when she went into a long, Sam-speak explanation. Four had Asgard hyperdrives, that much he knew. The other two were Sam's own creation. In the simulations they had worked. In a few moments they'd find out if the simulations had been right.

"We have main engine start in five, four, three, two, one…" the tech reported. Jack's eyes were still on Sam. She was nodding as she was listening to her headset, her look intense. It was quite possibly the happiest he'd seen her in a long time, all things considered.

"Prometheus—main engines are on-line," she reported, a slight smile on her face. "Daedalus—check. Korliev—check." She finished the list: Odyssey… Apollo… Phoenix…all on-line. "We're good to launch, sir," she informed Highmore.

For a moment Jack thought Highmore was going to make a speech or something, but then the general seemed to think better of it and simply said:

"Go for launch…and Godspeed."

George Hammond's favorite send-off caught Jack off-guard. He saw Sam wince slightly too and just for a moment she looked his way. Then it was back to the headphones.

There was a single camera feed. On the monitor Jack saw the Prometheus begin to rise off the ground, blowing debris and dust in all directions and causing the image to shake violently with the vibrations. He had to admit, Prometheus had never been his favorite ship. Too many bad things had happened to it in the past, from the time it was stolen by the damned NID to when he thought he'd almost lost Sam those four days the ship went missing. Still…it was the prototype…the one off which all the others had been based. So that had to count for something.

Prometheus rose slowly, looking for all the world like it would never get off the ground, as huge as it was. It was ungainly, and downright ugly, as far as Jack was concerned. He'd never told Sam that. Of course she hadn't had much to say about its external structure; the guts of the thing were her brainchild. But it looked for anything like a fat angular goose that just couldn't get its butt out of the water.

But then it rose. And the farther up it went the more flight-worthy it started to look. The camera panned with it, zooming in as the ship reached greater heights until the zoom capability had maxed out. After that it became an ever diminishing speck against a gray sky. And then it was gone.

Jack felt eyes on him. He turned and saw Sam watching him. Only he would know from the way they were glistening that there were tears there. She was thinking of Cassie and Mark, he was sure. He gave her a slight nod and a smile. At least they were safe.

"General! The Korliev is reporting an unidentified ship has just dropped out of hyperspace." There was a pause. Jack felt his blood pressure ratchet up a few notches. This was a surprise. He hated surprises. "Attempts to communicate with them have been unsuccessful."

"Is it a goa'uld mothership?" asked Highmore, tensely. The tech relayed the question.

"No sir. The design is not in the database."

"Replicators?" asked Jack. If those damned bugs….

"No, sir. Not replicators either. The Daedalus is reporting sir…they said the markings on the ship are consistent with the language of the Aschen."

"The Aschen?" repeated Highmore, disbelief in his tone. "Here?"

"That's inconsistent with how they do things," interjected Sam. "They prefer stealth over blatant attack."

"So…what…they're here to see if we're all dead yet?" Jack asked. Sam shrugged.

"May be, sir. It's been a few years."

"Get me Colonel Pendergast," ordered Highmore. The tech pressed buttons and nodded at the general.

"Colonel Pendergast…this is General Highmore. I want that Aschen vessel neutralized. Do I make myself clear? Take out that ship now. That's an order."

"Are you nuts?" exclaimed Jack, stepping toward Highmore. "They can't take on the Aschen! They need to get the hell out of there now!"

Sam too was on her feet.

"Sir—the Prometheus' shields are at minimal levels! If they Aschen return fire, the Prometheus won't withstand more than a couple of hits!"

"They won't have to, Colonel. From what we know of the Aschen, fighting isn't much their style."

Jack saw the color start to rise in Sam's face.

"With all due respect, sir…we really don't know a whole hell of a lot about the Aschen…and I think it's naïve to assume that, just because we've never seen one of their warships, they don't have them…or aren't capable of using them."

"I'm sure that the Prometheus is more than a match for them," Highmore replied with confidence.

"Oh for cryin' out…." Jack's frustrated exclamation was cut off by the tech.

"Sirs….Odyssey is reporting that Prometheus has opened fire on the Aschen vessel." There was silence. Everyone seemed to be holding their collective breath. "The Aschen are returning fire…."

Jack could tell it wasn't good news by how pale the technician suddenly went. He swallowed hard, muttered "Confirm again, Odyssey" and then nodded absently. He looked up at Highmore, drained of color.

"Sir…Colonel Emerson reports that the Aschen scored a direct hit on the Prometheus. The ship is destroyed…with all hands."

Jack saw Sam sit down abruptly, barely finding the seat. She was ashen, glassy-eyed.

Cassie…Mark…the kids…hell, even Walter.

Jack swallowed. He battled the urge to go to her, to comfort her. And he thought he would be sick. Something vile and bitter had risen in the back of his throat. Oh yeah…now he knew what it was. Hatred. This urge he let come.

He had Highmore by the throat in an instant.

"You stupid, sonofabitch!" he yelled in his face. "You sorry piece of shit! You couldn't just let them jump to safety, could you? You had to put on one last show! Prove that our balls are bigger than theirs? Do you know what you just did? Do you have any idea what just happened? One sixth…one sixth!…of the future of our people just got turned to space dust! I oughta just…."

A hand rested on his arm. Through the red fury that had possessed him he managed to pull his eyes away from Highmore's purpling face. It was Sam.

"Sir…no. Don't." Her voice was eerily quiet. It reached through the screaming tirade inside Jack's head to some place rational. But he still didn't lessen his grip. The hand on his arm squeezed slightly. "Jack…please."

Almost involuntarily Jack felt his hand release. Highmore began to cough and sputter. Normal color began to return to his face. He glared at Jack, who had no doubt that the feelings of hatred he felt for the man were now mutual.

Sam was still holding his arm.

He found himself vaguely wondering why he wasn't already in cuffs. Assaulting a superior officer, even in this screwed up chain of command, was still a major no-no. He expected to hear pistols cocked in his direction any second.

Except he didn't.

Finally Highmore found his voice. It was raspy. Jack took some satisfaction in knowing he was the cause.

"Take General O'Neill into custody," he ordered, rubbing his throat where Jack could now see the imprint of his own hand on the man's neck. On his own arm he felt Sam's grip tighten protectively.

Oddly, no one in the room moved. Not one of the techs or even the guards that Highmore went everywhere with budged an inch. It was as if they had all been frozen. Except they weren't. Jack could see furtive glances being exchanged between them. He had a feeling he was missing something. Something big.

"I said, take General O'Neill into custody!" repeated Highmore, more fully voiced now.

Still, no one moved.

"Damn it! Didn't anyone hear…." Highmore was cut off by one of the technicians. The guy who had been on the phone with the Odyssey.

"Yes, sir. We heard you. And no sir. We refuse." The technician gave a slight nod and before Highmore could even protest, his two guards had come up behind him and taken him by the arms.

"Wait…what is the meaning of this?" he demanded. "What are you doing? Let me go!"

"Inside his jacket pocket," one of the guards said. The technician stood and walked over to Highmore. Reaching into the general's pocket he pulled out a small device. Jack recognized it as something goa'uldish. Other than that, he didn't have a clue.

The tech laid the device on the table and they all stared at it.

The shock of the past several seconds finally wore off.

"Forget that!" Jack ordered. If Highmore was out of the picture, for whatever reason, then he was in command.. "We've got five more ships up there. Order them to jump to hyperspace now…tell them to get the hell out of there!"

The technician gave Jack a curt nod and went back to his post, relaying the message. For several long moments no one said a word. Not even Highmore. Which was a smart move as far as Highmore was concerned, Jack thought. He'd have had a fist in his face if he'd so much as uttered a peep.

The technician began to nod as obviously something was coming in through his headset. He then pressed some buttons and listened some more. Finally a tight smile appeared. He pulled the headset off and looked up at them.

"Sir…the remaining five ships reported they had activated hyperdrives and the orbital tracking station reports that all five ships have now entered hyperspace. They're gone."

Jack nodded grimly. At least they'd averted a worse disaster.

"What about the Aschen vessel?" asked Sam.

"It's still in orbit, Ma'am. It did not pursue any of the other ships."

They'd deal with the Aschen in a minute. The device that they'd taken off Highmore was sitting on the table.

"What the hell is that thing?" he asked, pointing.

Sam's grip on Jack's arm loosened as she made to reach for it. There was a slight crackle of ozone as the device shimmered momentarily and then vanished.

"What the…?" he muttered. Sam swept her hand through the space the device had just occupied.

It's some kind of homing device," she said. "It had to be."

Jack wheeled on Highmore. The urge to inflict serious harm was coming over him again. Bullets were too hard to come by. He pulled out his knife.

"Just who are you? A goddam Aschen spy? Was that thing supposed to tell them where you were so they could beam you up to their ship?"

Highmore struggled, but the guards had him too tightly pinned. He eyed the knife in Jack's hand warily, but seemed unafraid.

"I don't think so, sir." Sam interjected. "That was a goa'uld device of some kind. The Aschen's technology far surpassed the goa'ulds. I highly doubt they'd use anything that primitive."

"So…you're saying what…he's a goa'uld?" spat Jack. He hadn't had a goa'uld to be pissed off at in a long time. It would make for a nice change of pace.

"I'm no damned goa'uld," sneered Highmore.

"General Highmore has very close ties with the NID, sir," spoke up the technician. "There's a group of us who've been keeping an eye on certain members of the Council for quite some time. Not unlike yourself, we've suspected all along that they had their own agenda. And a means of getting themselves off the planet, once the evac ships had left."

"Osiris' ship," said Sam suddenly. She looked at Jack as if it all seemed to suddenly make sense. Jack wished it did. "Sarah…Daniel's friend," Sam explained. "She said the ship was cloaked and in orbit. They must have figured out the device worked to get on-board."

Jack could tell from the self-satisfied look on Highmore's face that Sam had hit the nail on the head. He waggled the knife closer to the general's face. The self-satisfied look disappeared.

"So…why now? Why wait until the evacuation? Why didn't they just take off when they had a chance?"

Highmore snorted.

"Think what you want, O'Neill…but really, we do want the human race to survive."

"Yeah. I'm sure you do. Which is why ninety-eight percent of the rest of us get to stay here and rot."

"You could have been on that ship, O'Neill. You've got the gene. It's your own fault you decided to stay behind. Though I know you had your reasons."

Highmore's eyes strayed ever so briefly to Sam. Jack couldn't help himself. He pressed the edge of the knife against Highmore's throat and a thin line of blood appeared.

"You sonofa…."

Sirens drowned out the last of Jack's words. Seconds later an unsettling vibration rippled through the room. Chairs rattled. Lights flickered. Pens rolled off tables to the floor.

"Carter?"

Sam was at the controls in an instant. Before she could report, a second wave shook them. This time they swayed where they stood.

"Earthquake?" Jack asked. Sam shook her head. She looked up at him and the terror on her face sent chills over him.

"No, sir. Aerial bombardment. It's the Aschen ship. It's firing on the planet. They're targeting Peterson, sir…."

**OOOO**

Either the Aschen had terrible aim or they had been too concerned with hitting as many of the populated areas at once to care about precision strikes. Peterson had been badly hit, but not completely destroyed. And since a person couldn't turn around anywhere in the compound without hitting a refugee, the casualty rate had been high.

Jack knew he should feel worse about it than he did. The tent cities were the hardest hit. Those who weren't killed by the impact blast were incinerated by the ensuing fires which had spread rapidly. No one knew for sure how many people actually lived in the makeshift city, but the estimates were that at least near ten thousand of the population had died. The barracks and the housing units had also taken damage, but not nearly on the same scale. Another two thousand had been lost there.

The numbers rolled off Jack like so much rain. There was only one number he cared about. Okay…two. And he and Sam had found them both alive and well, trying to help those who had been less lucky.

Sam's plaintive "Oh God!" when she'd finally spotted them had ripped into his heart. She'd taken off at a run, with him close behind. By the time he'd caught up, Sam was on her knees, her arms wrapped around their daughter. Jack had sunk to the ground next to them and held them both. He thought his heart would pound out of his chest. Jade loosened one arm from around Sam's neck and wrapped it around his, pulling their three heads close together. It was the first time he'd allowed himself to look into Sam's eyes since they'd left Cheyenne Mountain. They'd had no idea what they'd find when they got here. He hadn't wanted to add to her fear by letting him see his own. And he wasn't sure he could take the grief that had been written all over her face. Now her eyes brimmed with tears of joy, mixed still with the pain of near loss. They had come so close. So very close.

Too damn close. Jack pulled the two of them even tighter to himself. The Prometheus. If he'd insisted that they go…if Sam hadn't been so damned stubborn…he'd have lost them both. Another near miss. He didn't want to think how many he was entitled to before fate scored a direct hit. He pushed the thought away and kissed Jade's hair. He'd just be grateful for what he still had.

Daniel was there too, although he looked like hell. Not from the bombing but from the aftermath—trying to help those who'd lost someone…or everyone. It was already taking its toll on him, Jack could see. He had a shell-shocked look to him.

"We've got to get out of here," Jack told them, standing up and looking around. There did appear to be some order to the relief process. Everything wasn't completely in chaos. Good. He could get back to the matter at hand.

Daniel blinked at him.

"Jack…these people need help. We can't just leave them."

"Yes we can, Daniel. You're not the only angel of mercy here, you know. Others will pick up the slack. We've got to get back to the mountain."

Sam had stood up and was carrying Jade.

"You're going to go back and open the stargate," she said. Jack nodded.

"What? Now? What about the strike force…the…you know…the raid?" asked Daniel.

"Don't need them. Not any more. The mountain's ours We just have to get that big honkin' blast door off the elevator shaft."

"And the power up and running," Sam added. She looked around. She wasn't letting go of Jade, but she'd definitely switched back over to mission mode. "I don't know how much damage these blasts might have caused the power grid. We'll have to see if we've even got enough to get the lights on now."

"And then what?" asked Daniel. "You can't just…."

Jack turned to Daniel.

"Just _what_, Daniel? Just leave?" he snapped. He couldn't help it. He was raw around the edges. Too much had happened too quickly. Crazy as the world had become, the past hour had just seen it tilted on-end one more time. Suddenly the rules were different all over again. He was having a hard time keeping up. Daniel wasn't helping.

"We have no intention of leaving, Daniel," Sam intervened, looking between the two of them. "We just have to see if we can get it to work. If we can, we'll start by sending all these people through the gate…and as many as we can after that until we run out of power. That's been the plan all along."

Daniel seemed to be turning this over in his thoughts. Yeah. Fine. Whatever. Jack was in no mood to debate or cajole. He loved Daniel like a brother, but if the guy was going to futz around, then he could just stay here.

"Look, Daniel. Come. Don't come. Whatever you want to do. The three of us are heading back. You're welcome to join us. If you don't want to, then…see you around, huh?"

"Jack…." Sam said warningly, giving him that "you're going to blow this let me handle it" look. She turned to Daniel. "He's right, Daniel. There's nothing you can do here. Come help us get the Stargate open. You'll do way more good getting people off the planet than you will putting band-aids on cuts.

A small part of Jack was relieved to see Daniel nod. Considering what had already happened that day, though, it wasn't really enough to make him care.

"Fine," he said brusquely. "Let's go, then. I think there's enough gas left in that truck to get us back to Cheyenne. If not, we're going to have to walk. And that's something I'd rather not have to do, especially after dark." Jack looked at his watch. They were going to be cutting it close, even if they did have enough fuel. And just when he thought the day couldn't get any better.

He looked at Sam. She was busy brushing Jade's hair back and smiling at their daughter's dirty face. It might have been the simple gesture of any mother with her daughter and the ordinariness of it in the midst of this apocalyptic nightmare caught Jack off-guard. A lump formed in his throat like someone had shoved a fist down it. How could something be so right and so wrong at the same time.

So maybe they had no future. Sam had told him Jade did not carry the ATA gene. That Scottish doctor from the aborted Atlantis expedition…Becker…Beckham…Beckett… Beckett had discovered that the gene was recessive. Since Sam didn't have it, Jade couldn't. Their daughter was the last of the line of Carters and O'Neills. That in itself didn't bother him, as much as the fact that, even if they did find a sanctuary somewhere else in the galaxy, the damage was already done. Jade would never know the love of a child or be able to hold her daughter the way Sam was holding her. In the end, Jade would be alone.

And that's what broke Jack's heart.

Except he didn't have time for grieving now. Not when there was work to do. The Aschen weren't going to be satisfied until every last person on the face of the earth was dead.

So they needed to get off the face of the earth. They had to get off this hell hole. And they had to get off it soon.

**-o-o-o-o-**

_**Time Incursion #9**_

Infection Minus Fourteen Days

"_You still don't believe me, do you. You think I'm making this up."_

"_Sounds like a whole lot of disaster movies I've seen. All we need is an alien ship blowing up the White House."_

"_Actually, they took out the Capitol first," she replied calmly. "Then the White House. And Parliament. And the Kremlin. Every major seat of government was hit."_

"_By who?"_

"_By whom," corrected Jade automatically. "And it was the Aschen."_

"_Why would the Aschen attack earth if they'd effectively wiped us out anyway?"_

"_Because the found out they hadn't wiped us all out. This wasn't about taking over the planet and using it's resources as they did with the Volians. This was about revenge. When Colonel Carter handed over those gate addresses, the first one on the list was a black hole. They were a little irked at that."_

_Barrett was writing some more._

"_So…what happened next?"_

"_Like I said, even before the Aschen showed up in their ships, everything had pretty much gone to hell in a hand-basket. Resources dried up fast. Animals didn't reproduce; plants didn't reproduce. Food became scarce. Water became tainted. Power, fuel—it was all rationed. Communications systems were erratic. The military tried to keep things under control. In some instances they tried too hard. There was a backlash. A kind of mob mentality broke out. A lot of the laws of what you'd consider civilization went out the window. It was every person for themselves._

"_The only truly safe havens were the military bases; they had stockpiles of food and water, some fuel, generators, heat. They took in as many people as they could without compromising the safety and well-being of everyone. Every spare inch of ground was covered by some kind of make-do shelter. Tents. Lean-tos. Crates. Even boxes, in some cases. The bases became an armed fortress. Either you were in or you were out. And trust me…you didn't want to be out._

"_By then a plan was in place to evacuate as many people off-world as possible. The Air Force already had the Prometheus and the Daedalus; next in line were the Odyssey, the Korliev and the Apollo. They also built a sixth ship: the Phoenix. Half-the systems were reverse engineered from Asgard and goa'uld technology. They were pretty amazing considering the conditions under which they were built."_

"_And all this was managed without the help of the Asgard, you say."_

_Jade couldn't help a small smile._

"_Yeah. Us humans can be pretty resourceful when we need to be. It also helps to have one of the best minds on the planet working on it." She allowed herself a brief glance at the forms watching her from the darkened room on the other side of the observation window. _

_Fortunately Barrett did not notice._

"_Why didn't one of our allies assist us? The Tok'ra…the Asgard?"_

_Jade couldn't help it. She snorted derisively._

"_I think you've had a little experience with Anubis. With our attention on our own problems, it didn't take long for him to defeat the other system lords and dominate the galaxy. The Tok'ra were all but exterminated. There are a few in hiding, but not many._

"_As for the Asgard…the Replicators pretty much finished them off. In my time, even if humans do survive…it's just a matter of time before we're either taken over by the Replicators or enslaved by Anubis. It's hardly worth surviving for."_

_She hadn't meant to let out that bit of editorial comment. She'd vowed that she'd stay unemotional through this…that she wouldn't betray her own feelings. But the discussion had taken her unexpected places; places she'd been unprepared for. It was time to get a hold of herself; if she gave too much away…well, she'd give too much away. _

"_Go on," Barrett told her. He was writing again. She shifted position in the chair. It felt like she'd spent a lifetime in this same seat. For all the technology the SGC had possessed at this time she'd have thought they'd have had chairs that didn't date to the 1960s._

"_When the ships were ready, they began evacuating people. First on the list were the people with the ATA gene. At least what was left of them."_

"_What happened to them?"_

"_When it was first discovered that some people weren't afflicted by the weapon, there was an attempt to determine what made them so unique…they were rounded up and 'encouraged' to undergo testing to see why they were so special…and how maybe what made them special could be used to save the rest of the population. It was an internment camp. No one ever wanted to call it that, but it was. And in spite of their efforts to make sure it was well kept, the simple fact was, with no food and limited resources people began to get sick. Being able to have kids didn't make them immune to some of the more common communicable diseases. I think they lost about forty percent before they realized that maybe their plan hadn't been such a good idea. And that number didn't take into account those who had been attacked outside the camp."_

"_Attacked?"_

"_Look…I said it got ugly. And violent. And it brought out the worst in people. Use your imagination. I'm sure you can figure it out."_

_She swallowed, too many memories from her childhood threatening her composure. She hadn't thought she'd have to go this deeply into it. _

"_But you were able to evacuate some." Barrett's voice brought her attention back to the room. _

"_Those who were deemed worthy—yes. By then some other forces had come into play. Some of your friends at the NID had worked their way into power, either directly or indirectly. The evacuee lists were trimmed to only those who could be sure to propagate the human population on some other planet. Anyone else was conveniently left off. It made room for more of the NID's people. Oh...and not to mention the fact that they had their own secret means of getting out as well."_

"_The stargate."_

_She shook her head._

"_No. They still refused to open the stargate. They didn't want the rest of us to get off the planet…wherever we went we'd be a drain on resources…a burden to whomever took us in. Burn up a lot of that intergalactic good-will, so to speak. We were dead anyway, so they were happy to leave us behind. Actually, they had a mother ship…one some goa'uld names Osiris had left parked in orbit under cloak. They'd figured out how to get onto it and were waiting until the evac ships left before taking a powder themselves. A lot of them got away too. But not all of them."_

"_So…when did they open the stargate? Or did they?"_

"_Oh they got it opened all right. After the Aschen attacked and the top leadership bailed, those who were left behind got it opened pretty damned fast. It sucked a lot of power—something there wasn't much left of by then—but they got it up and running. They evacuated people for almost two months, activating the gate twice a day. It didn't save everyone—it couldn't. But it was better than nothing."_

"_And you yourself got out through the stargate?"_

_She nodded, determined not to glance at the observation room. _

"_My parents and I were some of the last to go through."_

"_More of that luck, you seem to have," he commented, dryly._

_The remark cut her to the quick. If he only knew._

"_Yeah. Must be Irish," she retorted before slumping back into the chair. She shouldn't have let him get to her like this, but she couldn't help it. They were running out of power to make these incursions. The Commander was getting impatient. _

_Looking at Agent Barrett's carefully practiced smile, she had to admit, she was too._


	6. Part 5

**Out of Time**

**Part 5**

_Infection Plus Twelve Years_

"Didn't I tell you to go to bed?"

Eyes that were as brown as her father's blinked back at her in feigned innocence.

"I guess I didn't hear you."

"Ahh," replied Sam with a knowing look. Jade threw her a grin. Oh yes. So very Jack. Even her mannerisms.

"Can I please stay up? It's hardly even dark out!" There was the slight whine in her voice that Sam was sure only eleven year old girls could pull off.

"_May_ I please stay up," corrected Jack coming up behind her and tickling her. She squealed and twisted out of his grasp. "And no. You may not. Mom and I have work to do tonight."

Jade's eyes lit up.

"Are you planning another attack on the Aschen? Can I help?"

Sam saw Jack's face go taut. She understood too well. When she was eleven she'd been listening to ABBA and hoping for a ten-speed bike for her birthday, not volunteering to go on missions to help save the human race. On Chulak the only music were Jaffa battle songs and the only way to get from Point A to Point B was on foot, and even that had to be done with care. The refugee camps-turned-settlements were not all safe havens. When they'd opened the stargate and evacuated as many people as they could six years ago they hadn't exactly asked for resumes. The bad had come with the good. It was humanity, after all.

"No. You can not help. And don't ask us that again." Jack's voice was sharp, harsh. He was never that way with Jade. The girl blanched slightly at her father's tone and meekly said good-night, hurrying quickly out of Jack's sight.

Sam followed her back to her small bedroom and waited while she crawled into bed.

"Dad's mad," she told Sam pulling the blanket up tight around her chin.

"I think he just has had a very long day," Sam reasoned out. Jack did seem more on-edge than normal, but Jade didn't need to think that it had anything to do with her. "Now…no eavesdropping," she warned as she leaned over and kissed her, touching her lightly on the nose. Jade grinned. It was Jack again.

"It's not eavesdropping if you guys are talking loud and I can't help but hear it," she claimed. Sam narrowed her eyes.

"It is if you're sitting over there by the door with your ear pressed up against the gap instead of here in bed," she countered. "Now…no more getting up."

"What if I have to go to the bathroom?"

Sam sighed.

"Do you have to go to the bathroom?"

"No. But what if I do?"

"Good night, Jade."

"You didn't hug me."

Sam returned for the needed hug.

"Can I have some water?"

"No. Then you will have to go to the bathroom. Now, good night."

She waited a half a beat for at least one more request, but Jade seemed unable to come up with anything else. Turning down the lamp, Sam closed the door firmly behind her. Tonight's discussion really didn't need any extra ears.

"She asleep?" asked Jack when she joined him at the small table in the larger room that was both living room and kitchen. The dwelling had only two other rooms: a small bathroom, which in many ways was little more than an indoor outhouse, and another bed room. It was cozy, but better than what many others had. Ry'ac had insisted they take this dwelling, assuring them that his father would have wanted it no other way.

Sam still grieved for Teal'c. Somehow, when they'd arrived at the Alpha Site six years ago she had half-expected to find him there, waiting for them. When Reynolds told them he was dead…killed in battle with Anubis at a place called Dakarra…she had felt as though she'd lost one of the pillars in her life. Teal'c's quiet, stolid presence had been a rock for them. He'd learned long ago the truth about her feelings for Jack, and yet had never said a word to her in all those years, except to give her a place to go when she needed extra strength she could not find from within. She knew he would be pleased that, even in the nightmare their world had become, she and Jack had managed to finally be together. In some ways she'd been anticipating the look on his face when they told him—when he met Jade—when they, with Daniel, could be the odd sort of family they had been before.

Which was why his loss had had such a profound effect on her, compounding all the other losses from that time. She'd grieved for weeks, trying not to let Jack know. But then she'd seen that, in his own way, he was grieving too. As he had when Daniel had ascended and he wouldn't let anyone near him. With Teal'c though, she wouldn't let him be. Not this time. She couldn't. She'd needed him, damn it; and he had needed her, and she wasn't going to let him run and hide, like he had before. So she'd bullied him into talking about it. It hadn't exactly come pouring out. Jack simply wasn't the type. But it had helped. And things were better. Or at least as good as they could be, under the circumstances.

"No, but I think she'll stay put tonight," Sam answered, taking the cup of water Jack handed her and sipping it. In the blue evening light she noticed suddenly how much more silver his hair had become. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Still, he looked tired and drawn. Shadows lurked beneath his eyes and she realized he hadn't shaved for a while. He'd been at the Alpha Site for three days, only getting home this afternoon. But he'd come bearing gifts: a supply of naquadah, some scavenged goa'uld bits and pieces of technology, a case of zat guns and, best of all, a small collection of books, which Jade had grabbed like a dog would a bone and, after kissing her dad repeatedly, had scurried off to add them to her growing stack. These were even in English—an added bonus, although when they arrived in other languages of the galaxy she and Daniel would spend hours pouring over them, translating them. It wasn't much of a classical education, but it was a nice change of pace from all the science and technology Sam tended to pour into her.

Jack ran his hands over his face and through his hair. It half stood on end in that mussed-up way that used to give her an overwhelming desire to ruffle it. A desire that hadn't exactly gone away, although she resisted it at the moment. There was a mission to plan.

"Reynolds says they've got some intel on a cache of goa'uld weapons on some planet." He pulled out a piece of paper and pushed it across the table to her. "P5X-776. Word is that they're Ba'al's. Apparently he's got these little arsenals seeded all around the galaxy, just in case things between him and Anubis don't quite work out."

"They've worked out all these years, why should that change?"

Jack shrugged.

"They're snakes. Back-stabbing is just part of what they do, I guess."

"Well, if we know about it, I can't imagine that Anubis doesn't."

"Yeah. I thought that too. Maybe he's just so damned powerful now, Ba'al's little delusions of grandeur don't even make him bat an eye."

"Or the intel is false."

"And I thought of that too."

"A trap."

"Yeah. A trap."

"By who? The Aschen? It's not their style."

"Neither was bombarding a planet."

Sam had to give him that. She bit her lip and nodded. Thinking.

"Anubis, then? Although I don't know why. We're hardly a threat."

"No. But we are a pain in the ass. And when a mosquito bites you enough times, you finally swat it."

"So…do we go after it, or wait until we get confirmation?"

"Confirmation is going to be hard. The way Reynolds tells it, the temple where the cache is hidden is home to a sect of Jaffa priests. The warriors stationed there are ostensibly to protect them. The only way we're going to know for sure is if we go in."

"And if it's a trap…."

"Then we'll be screwed."

Sam sighed.

"Not much of a choice, is there? We need more weapons."

"Yeah. Not much of a choice," he echoed her. They were both silent for a few moments. Jack was staring out the small window at the growing darkness. He seemed uncharacteristically pensive. Something was going on with him. Something apart from the mission.

"Jack…what's wrong?"

He looked at her startled, as if he'd forgotten she was there.

"Nothing," he answered, after it finally seemed to register with him what she had asked. "Nothing's wrong."

She tried to give him her best "Don't give me that crap" look, but he'd turned back to the window. It was probably best if she dropped it. There was no getting him to talk if he didn't want to.

"So…when do we go?" she asked, trying to draw him back to the topic. He acted like she'd startled him again.

"Huh? Oh…day after tomorrow. SG-3 and SG-4 will be our back-up. They'll go by gate. We'll take the tel'tak so we can ring up the weapons and save everyone an aching back."

"Plus it gives us two routes of escape, if we need it."

"Yup."

Sam nodded.

"Sounds like a plan," she said. "Did Reynolds provide intel on what we're likely to find there, aside from some Jaffa priests, that is?"

"Yeah. Here. Look it over." He fished in his pocket and found a small SD card. Sam went for her laptop. The thing was ancient and beat-up and she'd built and rebuilt it almost a dozen times, developing the interface needed to power it off the naquadah generators she'd also built; but it worked, and that was all that mattered. It wasn't like she could waltz down to her corner computer store and just pick up a new one. She slid the card into the slot and waited for Reynold's report to pop up.

The card was blank.

"Jack are you sure…." She looked up, but he was looking out the window again, paying no attention to her. His hand was holding one knee…the one that gave him the most trouble. The one he'd been obviously favoring since he got back from the Alpha Site.

"Jack…?"

He finally turned to her, again, almost surprised to see her there.

"I'm sorry—what?"

She came over and squatted in front of him, covering the hand that was on the bothersome knee.

"What's going on?" she asked quietly.

A shadow passed over his face. The one that came when she knew he was going to shut down, shut her out. There was a hardness to his eyes and in them she saw none of the warmth he usually held for her there.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

The edge to his voice alone would have convinced her of exactly the opposite, even if she didn't have almost twenty years of experience with the man.

"I don't think so," she pushed. She could either leave him to brood or try to draw him out. Brooding, she knew, led him to even darker places. She wouldn't let him go there alone…not if she could help it.

"Is it the mission? If you've got some hunch you're not telling me about…."

"No. The mission is a go. We need that ordinance."

Sam bit her lip and nodded, wracking her brain for what else could be eating him.

"How were things at the Alpha Site?"

He gave a short, derisive snort.

"Oh, swell. They allowed another group of refugees through the gate last week, so Tent City is at full capacity again. Pierce has got to learn to say 'no'."

"That's hard to do when it's mostly our fault that the virus spread all across the galaxy," replied Sam.

"Well…at least their planets didn't get turned to giant bombed-out dustbowls because of it. I don't know what they expect us to do for them. We're barely hanging on ourselves." His voice was hard. Unyielding. "And it's not our fault," he added, vehemently. "It's the damned Aschen. They did this. Not us."

She had no come-back for that. It was true—their only culpability was in their ignorance at the beginning, and not confining the off-world teams to the Alpha Site. It had only taken a few years for the virus to spread to all the human populations across the galaxy. So far they hadn't come across a single planet that had been spared.

" No…but if anyone can make a difference…."

He interrupted her.

"Come on, Sam…we're nothing more than a bunch of damned rats, scavenging for the garbage in the goa'uld's back alleys."

The bitterness in his voice took her aback. She let her hand slide off his and sat back up in the chair, watching him.

"We do what we have to do to survive," she reminded him.

"Yeah. I guess." The flash of anger had faded. He was back in brooding mode.

"What choice do we have?"

There was a moment before he answered.

"We could stop."

He said it quietly. So quietly she hardly thought she'd heard him. But she had.

"Stop? What…you mean, give up?" She couldn't help sound incredulous. Jack O'Neill never gave up.

"Stop. As in—stop. Take the life we have and be happy with it. Stop before we lose what we already have, instead of trying to get something that, in the long run, won't make a damn bit of difference anyway."

Sam was silent. Pieces of the puzzle were falling into place. There was always risk on one of these raids, whether it was against the goa'uld or the Aschen. Just as there was always the possibility that their sanctuaries, here on Chulak and at the Alpha Site, would be discovered. One well-aimed blast, one Aschen spy…and it would all be gone. But they'd always agreed that it was worth it, if it meant the safety of their people and a chance for the human race to persevere, in spite of the deathly blow it had been dealt.

Still, she didn't think either she or Jack had been prepared to see their child stand there and offer to fight beside them. It had disturbed her, she had to admit and it must have hit Jack even harder. They did what they did so that one day Jade could maybe live without the fear she'd had to grow up with. The possibility that she would ever have to step in and take their place had been something they both had tried to push far from their conscious thoughts. Tonight, seeing her standing there, offering to go with them, the likelihood of that happening had come a whole lot closer.

And now she understood. Now she knew the dark place where Jack had gone. It was the place where he lost yet another child. The place she lived in cold fear of herself, ever since that day she'd searched the ruins of Peterson with terror in her heart.

But he didn't need to know that. His own demons were burden enough.

Besides. She refused to completely abandon all hope.

"It might make a difference," she insisted gently. "Who's to say there isn't some way to undo this. We can't stop, Jack. If we give up…then it is over—for you, for me, for Jade—all of us. The Aschen will have won. I don't know about you, but I can't let that happen, even if it's with my last breath."

She'd taken his hand again, without realizing it. He'd gone back to staring at the window; by the working of his jaw she could see the things he could not say.

"Yeah," he said finally. "Me either."

He reached into his pocket and fumbled for something. Another SD card. He met her gaze as he handed it to her. The shadow over his eyes was gone.

"Here. Try this one. Reynolds said the place was like a maze. If that's the case, we'd better start figuring out how to leave a trail of bread crumbs."

**OOOO**

It was a trap. He'd known it was a trap—felt it in his gut from the moment Reynolds had laid it out for him.

And surprise. He was right.

He hated being right.

He wasn't sure what irked him more…the fact that he'd led his people into it anyway, or the fact that there was no weapons stash to be had. If they got out of this alive, he'd pick one. At the moment though, it hardly mattered.

He peered around the corner of the moss-covered stone pylon and looked for Carter. He caught a glimpse of movement, more of a shadow, really, from where he'd known her last position to be. He didn't risk calling to her to give their positions away, so he had to assume she was okay. He couldn't allow himself to think otherwise.

They'd been trying to get out of this hell-hole for forty-five minutes. It was like a damn fun house at the circus. Nothing was where it was supposed to be. Some goa'uld's idea of sick fun, probably. He'd have to ask Daniel about it when they got back.

If they got back.

They'd only taken a couple of the Kull disruptors with them, just as a precaution. Part of him hadn't wanted to believe it was a trap, and the damn things were too hard to come by to issue them to everyone. So they'd only had two, mounted atop their P90s. And neither he nor Carter had one. Which was why they weren't being particularly successful in taking down the Kull Warriors who were stalking them. And which was why it would be a better strategy to just get the hell out of there than to stand and fight. The only thing they seemed to be lacking was a giant "EXIT" sign pointing to exactly where it was they were supposed to go. It would have made everything so much easier.

In his periphery he saw that shadow again. Yes. It was Carter. He tried not to pay attention to the fact that his stomach lurched with relief that she was still in one piece. He leaned out further and she obviously saw him too. She gave him a tight smile and a curt nod before indicating that she could see two Kulls from her position. Their two friends, who'd been hunting them relentlessly through this mess of a maze.

It wasn't like they hadn't left their trail of breadcrumbs. Sam had chalked the walls as they went, indicating the way in and hence the way out. What she hadn't counted on—what none of them had counted on—was the walls changing position. The way in suddenly was not the way out. They were like rats in a damned maze, and he couldn't shake the feeling that some goa'uld somewhere was laughing his damned ass off watching them try to outsmart it.

And they'd gotten separated on top of it. Reynolds and his team—Sheppard and his. Jack had ordered them back to the gate while he and Carter and their two rookie tag-a-longs high-tailed it back toward the ring platform.

Now the rookies were dead. Edmonds had been crushed when one of the pillars had been shattered, raining chunks of stone down on him. Huetzel had taken a direct hit as she'd tried to run for cover. Neither of them had had the training they should have had to come on a mission like this, and Jack blamed himself for that. But then this was supposed to have been simple grand larceny, not a fight to the death.

Yeah. He hated being right.

And he hated being pinned down here, having no where to go, waiting for those damned Darth Vader wannabes to find him and Carter. He could tell from her position she had no place to go either except straight into the line of fire. She was trapped, just like him.

The only difference was, if he could provide some sort of distraction, she would probably be able to get out of there. He, on the other hand, wasn't going anywhere. Not with this knee.

The damned thing had finally given out. He'd wrenched it a few days before at the Alpha Site trying to be more agile than he was. He'd sucked it up then. Couldn't let the lower ranks think the old man couldn't keep up. Still…what he wouldn't give for some arthroscopic surgery about now. It had been on his to-do list after he'd taken command of the SGC. Right after solving that jello crisis. Oh. And kicking Anubis' ass. But it seemed the Aschen had other plans for him. And there wasn't a orthopedic surgeon in sight these days, so he had just made do the best he could.

But the knee was blown this time. There was no way he could put any weight on it. He couldn't make it out of here on his own if those Kull Warriors had rolled out a red carpet for him. And since red carpets were probably the furthest thing from the drones' puny minds, making it out under heavy fire—even if he knew where to go—wasn't even an option.

But Carter could make it. Alone. Without having to drag his sorry ass with her. The trick would be getting her to go and keeping her from realizing he wasn't right behind her. If she suspected…if she had any inkling, he knew she wouldn't budge. So he had to sell it. And sell it good.

He could hear the methodical creaking of the armor as their pursuers steadily approached. God what he'd give for one of those disruptors about now. Aw hell. He might just as well wish for an Asgard beam-out. Both were just as likely to happen. Still, he did have a couple of grenades. They wouldn't inflict any serious damage on Laurel and Hardy but they would distract them for a few seconds. Enough for Carter to scramble out of her cover and make a break for the ring room, wherever the hell it was.

He made a motion to get her attention. A few hand signals and she understood…and was shaking her head vehemently "no". Crap. Just when had she gotten so damned insubordinate? There was a time was when she'd do what he told her to without question. Living together for eleven years had really taken the edge off of his authority. If he actually thought he might make it out of here, he'd have given her a good talking to, CO to 2IC. Not that that was looking particularly likely at the moment. But he was determined she was going to make it, no matter what she said.

He made the signals again, this time adding what he hoped was an insistent enough look to get her to do as he said. Again she shook her head no. Damn it, anyway! The pair were getting closer. If they didn't do this now, they'd be on them in a few seconds and both of them were done for. That was unacceptable. One of them had to make it back. Sam had to make it back.

Taking a deep steadying breath, he shifted position so she could see him better and he could show her that he had the grenade in his hand ready to launch. His foot caught on the edge of the crumbling base of the pillar sending a scattering of stone and debris across the floor. In the silence of the tunnel it might as well have been a siren. The Kulls stopped and Jack could hear the whirring of their weapons being brought to bear on his position.

Damn. This was it.

A shot.

Two.

Except not at him.

He rounded quickly on his hip to look in Sam's direction, expecting the worst, but she too was hunkered against her barricade, tense, as if she was the one expecting the blast. There were two nearly simultaneous thumps, as of bodies hitting the ground, and then silence.

"It's safe, General. Colonel. You can come out now."

Jack glanced at Sam and saw her lean her head back against her rock and sigh with relief. They both recognized the voice.

Jack struggled to his feet, using the pillar for support.

"Sheppard…what the hell are you doing? Didn't I order you and Reynolds back to the gate?"

The lanky major hefted his modified P90 and walked over to where the two Kull Warriors now lay motionless on the ground. He prodded each one with this toe and then nodded as if satisfied. Looking up in Jack's direction he grinned.

"It's good to see you too, sir. And you're welcome."

"Hmmph," muttered Jack, loud enough for Sheppard to hear. "We had the situation under control." He tossed a look in Carter's direction and saw that she was on her feet now, looking gratefully at Sheppard. "Or we would have…in a couple of seconds…" he added, noticing the long-suffering look Carter was now giving him.

"Thanks, Major," she told Sheppard. "We appreciate it, don't we, sir?"

"Well…it did save us having to use a grenade. So…yeah. Thanks. Now why the hell are you here and not already back at the Alpha Site?"

"We doubled back once we took out the guys who were on our tail. Figured maybe since you didn't have the disruptors you could use a little help."

"So where's Reynolds?" asked Jack. Sheppard jerked his head in the opposite direction.

"Through the gate. With SG3 and 4."

"So…_you_ doubled back. Alone," clarified Carter, walking over to where Sheppard stood, dusting off her clothes. The major looked sheepish.

"Well…yeah. Maybe," he admitted.

Carter looked his way, he could see she was trying to hide a smile.

"I'm sorry…does it say 'General' anywhere on my uniform?" Jack asked in mock sarcasm. Damned fool. Damned lucky fool. And damned lucky for them too. He saw Sheppard grin.

Carter was studying her handheld again. It had supposedly held the map to the place, for all the good it had done. He saw a frown crease her forehead before her eyebrows shot up in surprise as she pressed a couple of buttons.

"I think I've found our way out of here," she said excitedly.

"The rings?" asked Sheppard, peering over her shoulder. Jack had no choice but to stay where he was. They'd find out soon enough he was lame.

"See…now I understand what these are. I didn't know what they meant before. But these are the moveable walls. If I do this…." She futzed with some more buttons. Jack tried a little weight on the knee and felt a pain that brought to mind words that would have made a Marine blush. Fortunately the pair pouring over the diagram didn't notice.

"There!" exclaimed Sam with satisfaction. "We were headed in the right direction after all. I think the ring room is down this corridor about three hundred meters." She pointed in the direction they had been heading before they'd been forced to take cover. Good. At least he wouldn't have to tramp all over this god-forsaken maze again.

"There more of our friends out there?" he asked Sheppard, indicating the way back through the maze. Sheppard glanced in that direction too.

"Yeah. I wouldn't stick around here too long if we can help it."

"This way," said Sam, heading off in the direction she'd pointed. She'd gone a few meters past him when she must have realized he wasn't joining them.

"Sir?" she asked, stopping and turning. Jack winced. Time to fess up.

"Yeah. Well. I've got a bit of a problem, you could say." He hopped forward a couple of steps, still holding onto the pillar for support. "The knee is kinda shot to hell."

Sam was there in an instant.

"What happened?" She'd squatted down and was trying to examine his leg, gingerly poking it with her finger. It took everything he had not to scream.

"That's…ow!" He couldn't help it. He saw her wince in apology as she stood up.

"Sorry."

"Yeah. It's okay. Just…a little tender, ya know?" He tried to say it without sounding in pain but his words kept coming out in little gaspy spurts. He could see in Sam's eyes that she was worried now. When she finally put two and two together and figured out he'd been going to stay behind while he had her run for it, there was going to be hell to pay.

"We do need to move, sir," Sheppard said coming over. The major was throwing concerned looks back in the direction the warriors had come from. He was probably right. Standing around here examining his torn cartilage would only get them all killed. Time to hobble on.

As much as he hated to, he allowed Sheppard to take his weight. A giant ice pack would feel good about now. And some nice pain meds. Neither of which were available on Chulak, unfortunately. He'd have to settle for some kind of Jaffa herb voodoo. Tasted like crap, but it did pack a hell of a punch. At least as much as he remembered, the last time he'd needed it.

They followed Carter down the corridor. Maybe it was his ears playing tricks on him, but he could have sworn he heard the creaking of Kull Warrior armor coming up behind them. Sheppard was moving him along at a comfortable speed, but they needed to pick up the pace.

"Faster, Major," he muttered, finally glancing over his shoulder. He couldn't see anything, but that really didn't mean a thing. He saw a flicker of concern on Sheppard's face. He too glanced over his shoulder.

"Yeah. I think you're right."

They moved along a little quicker. It hurt like hell, but really, when he considered the other option, pain was not a bad choice. Up ahead Cater turned a corner. A few seconds later they followed her.

It was the ring room.

Now they could definitely hear the sound of Kull Warriors coming behind them. Not just one or two, but maybe a whole squad of them. Creaking in unison, like they could have used an oil can or something.

"Get us out of here, Colonel," he murmured to Carter. She was working the controls. Sheppard centered them in the circles on the floor. The creaking was getting closer.

"Carter…" he growled when she didn't move from the panel. She was scowling. He hated it when she scowled. It never boded well.

"Sorry, sir…it's just…oh wait…there," she said with satisfaction. Moving swiftly she joined them in the center of the circle. The creaking was damned loud now. Any second and…

The rings activated. Dark forms appeared through the horizontal lines that surrounded him and then they vanished. The next thing he saw was the cargo hold of the tel'tak and Daniel standing there frowning at them.

"What took you guys so long? I was starting to get worried."

"Ran into a little trouble—but nothing we couldn't handle," reported Sheppard, helping Jack over to a seat on a crate.

"I can see that…" said Daniel, eyeing Jack appraisingly. "So…where are the weapons?"

"Just…get us the hell out of here, would you?" Jack barked. "And be careful…we might have some goa'uld on our tail. Carter…go make sure he doesn't fly us into a mothership or something."

He saw her give him a quizzical look, but nodded and followed Daniel to the flight deck. Sheppard had developed a sudden interest in his P90.

"Hey." Like it or not, Sheppard had saved their butts. "I owe you for that one. Thanks."

Sheppard glanced up and gave him a lop-sided grin.

"Actually, I think that's two you owe me, General. There was that sweet piece of flying with that drone in Antarctica."

"Ah. Yes. Well. Put it on my tab. And find a med kit, will ya? There's got to be a vial of morphine somewhere on this ancient tub."

**OOOO**

"Reynolds? Pierce? Mitchell?"

Sheppard's face was gray as a ghost. He looked like hell. He looked like Jack felt.

"Yes, sir. Everyone. The whole place. Whatever it was must have packed the same kind of punch as a nuclear warhead…and it was a pinpoint strike. The mountain was pretty much rubble. The gate's buried. No way anyone is digging that one out."

"What about the civilians?" Beside him Sam was ashen too. When they'd returned from P5X-776 they'd tried to contact the Alpha Site. The wormhole wouldn't lock so Sheppard had taken the tel'tak and gone to investigate. It had taken almost a week and a half by ship. They'd feared the worst, and it looked like they'd been right.

Sheppard was shaking his head, looking at his hands.

"Maybe a few escaped…fled up into the mountains. I don't know. I couldn't spot any, and I did a few low and slows over the nearby terrain…at least as far as I thought anyone could get by foot in that amount of time. I didn't see any signs of life."

"Oh my god," murmured Sam, her voice catching. Jack put his hand on her back. He knew what she was thinking. Over half of the civilians they'd evacuated from earth had opted to settle at the Alpha Site. If they were all dead….

"Who did it? The goa'uld? The Aschen?" he asked.

Sheppard grimaced.

"The residual energy signatures were consistent with Aschen weapons fire. They found us, sir. Plain and simple."

Jack felt his gut clench. If the Alpha Site had been compromised, it was possible Chulak was too. Any moment Aschen ships could start bombarding the planet. They were sitting ducks.

He could see Sam was thinking the same thing. And he knew what she was going to say.

"We should think about implementing the evacuation plan."

Yep. That was it.

When they'd first come to Chulak, after it was pretty clear that the Alpha Site would not be able to accommodate all the refugees, they'd sat down and devised a plan to move people again if they needed to. He'd been damned if he was going to find himself in a situation where he had to be responsible for relocating people again without a better strategy than the seat of the pants effort they'd used to get off earth or to get to Chulak. So they'd worked out a plan, in the event they ever had to beat a hasty retreat one more time.

It looked like it was time to put that plan into play.

He moved to stand up and didn't get very far.

Okay. So he'd have to put it into play from where he sat. There was still no going anywhere on that knee.

"Find a planet," he told Sam. "In fact…find us two planets. No sense in putting all our eggs in one basket."

"I've already green-listed about a dozen," she replied, noticing, he was sure, his failed effort to get up. "I'll pick a handful. John can take some people and check them out."

"I don't think the Aschen are coming here," Sheppard interrupted. "I don't think we need to evacuate…just yet."

"Why not?" Sam asked him. "You can't think it was just a random coincidence that of all the millions of planet in the galaxy they were able to find the Alpha Site?"

"No…I don't. But I don't think it happened like you're assuming it did."

Jack looked at Sam to see if she was getting what Sheppard meant. He was gratified to see that she still looked as unenlightened as he felt.

"You're thinking we were compromised by a spy maybe," Sheppard continued. "Or one of our off-world traders…or maybe they captured someone and got them to spill the beans about our location."

"And you don't?" Jack replied, archly. Sheppard shook his head.

"No sir. I think it was the mission to P5X-776. It was a set-up."

"Yeah. That we pretty much had figured out when the Kull Warriors started shooting at us."

To his credit, Jack thought, Sheppard didn't even look annoyed at his tone. But then he remembered that the guy used to hang out with that royal pain in the ass McKay at the Alpha Site. Obviously blatant sarcasm didn't phase him one bit.

"I don't think it was Anubis, though—I'll bet anything it was the Aschen. And when Reynolds and the others gated back to the Alpha Site, they got the coordinates from there. We came back in the tel'tak. They weren't expecting that, so they have no clue where we went."

Jack looked at Sam to see what she thought of Sheppard's theory. If they didn't have to evacuate twenty-thousand people, life would get instantly less complicated.

"It's possible the Aschen got their hands on some super-soldiers," she conceded after considering it for a moment. "I mean—the biggest problem we've had in fighting them is that their technology is so far ahead of ours—so I guess it's conceivable that they may have reprogrammed a few of Anubis' warriors. I wouldn't put it past them."

She looked at Jack. And yeah. He could practically read her thoughts again. Moving all those people was no small task. They'd finally settled into a sort of life here on Chulak. Not normal, exactly, but then nothing was ever going to be normal again. At least not how he defined normal. If they disrupted what they had—if they separated people again and sent them to different planets, it would be like starting all over again. He wasn't sure how many restarts they had left in them.

He wasn't sure how many restarts he had left in himself.

And yet…if they were wrong? That was in Sam's look too. Did they dare risk the entire colony on the assumption that the Aschen had traced the humans only to the Alpha Site and not here to Chulak? If they did…and they were wrong…they'd worked too hard—sacrificed too much—to let that happen either.

Still…Sheppard's theory had merit. If the Aschen had intended to attack Chulak, they'd have done it already. The major had made it to the Alpha Site and back and no Aschen warships had shown up in the meantime. In itself, that was a pretty strong case.

Jack wished he could stand up and walk around. This immobility was driving him nuts. He thought better when he moved. Damn knee anyway.

"Fine," he sighed. "We'll do it your way. If they were coming, we'll assume they'd have been here by now. We'll stay put. But I want that list of planets narrowed down," he told the major. "Take some people and see what our best options are. If we need to get out of here in a hurry, I want to know where exactly it is we're headed."

Sheppard nodded. He was looking a little better. Giving a guy like him a mission was always a good idea. It would take his mind off the fact that everyone he knew at the Alpha Site was gone. Jack half-envied him the recon—he'd like to take his mind off that fact too.

When the major had left, he turned to Sam. She seemed lost in thought.

"You okay?" he asked quietly. The room suddenly seemed deathly silent. Daniel had taken Jade on what he liked to call a "field trip". In point of fact, Jack knew it was Daniel's way of giving him and Sam some private time together. Something he'd actually been looking forward to, the knee notwithstanding—at least until Sheppard had shown up.

"Yeah," she replied wearily. "I mean…no. I mean…I'm just so tired of it all, Jack. Just when we think we've gotten on our feet again—this happens. They're never going to rest until we're all dead, are they? Every last one of us."

He put his arm around her and she leaned back into his shoulder. It was the only thing he knew to do. She'd figured out years ago that he was never good at this stuff. Besides, there wasn't anything he could say that would make her feel better anyway. They both knew that what she'd said was the truth. The Aschen would hunt them until they were all dead. They were damn well patient enough for it.

Well, he wasn't.

Their little hit and run tactics against the odd Aschen vessel hadn't done them a damn bit of good. It was time to aim for a higher goal.

And different tactics.

It came to Jack what they had that the Aschen didn't.

Nothing to lose.

Something made him pull Sam closer, hold her tighter.

It was time for an all-out war.

**-o-o-o-o-**

_**Time Incursion #10**_

Infection Minus Fourteen Days

"_So…after you evacuated earth, where did you go?"_

"At first, the Alpha Site. But it was so crowded and conditions were so bad that some of us relocated to Chulak. We set up a refugee camp there…after a while it was a settlement. The Free Jaffa were the only ones who welcomed us. Other planets weren't so hospitable."

"_We've had some good relationships with a lot of other planets…I would have thought that would have come into play."_

_She had to stifle a humorless laugh. _

"_Well…it's always a question of 'what have you done for me lately' isn't it? When the symptoms were first detected on earth, all off-world travel was suspended. Because they didn't know the source at first, SG teams were sent to the Alpha Site. They ended up staying there because some of the brilliant higher-ups decided that the best thing to do was to mothball the stargate and strand those people there. Which, it turned out, was the worst thing they could have done."_

"_Why was that?"_

"_Because they were already infected. And as they continued to travel to other worlds from the Alpha Site in search of supplies and support, they spread the bioweapon. Every planet they stepped foot on became a victim as well. Before long, humans all across the galaxy were exposed. It was a pandemic of galactic proportions. Humans were on their way to becoming extinct. People didn't exactly haul out the welcome wagon after that."_

"_Except for Chulak."_

_She shrugged._

"_Yeah. That whole killing Apophis thing carried a lot of weight with them. And besides, they didn't have the same issues with the food supply as earth had. There was just enough of a genetic difference to protect their planet. So we did okay. We even started to fight back. Some of the SGC and military personnel began to plan missions against the goa'uld or the Aschen. Others were sent to find trading partners so that we could get a regular food supply. By the time we'd left earth…well…things were pretty lean. I don't think those who were left behind lasted long after the stargate closed. I was back once…it wasn't a sight for the faint of heart."_

_She shuddered. They'd gone back once, trying to scavenge any technology they could. She felt like one of the crows they'd discovered there, picking at the carcass of a civilization. It had given her nightmares for months. But she had never told the Commander. Not that he would have cared anyway._

"_Why didn't you just leave well enough alone, once you got to Chulak? Why antagonize the goa'uld or the Aschen?" Barrett wanted to know. _

"_Well…the hits on the goa'uld were more for supplies and technologies. We came through the gate without a lot of gadgets and gizmos. We had to sort of start from scratch. It's hard to ask people who've been used to using computers to make do with parchment and quill pens, if you know what I mean."_

"_You stole from the goa'uld?"_

_She couldn't help a bit of a grin. _

"_Sort of poetic justice, don't you think…considering they stole all their technology from someone else?"_

_Barrett said nothing for a while but took more notes. Finally he looked up again. _

"_What about the Aschen? If they'd bombarded earth wouldn't they have assumed we were pretty much wiped out?"_

_She shook her head._

"_No. I mean…it might have taken them a while to figure it out, but they're no dunces. They started to hunt us down. The ships that had left earth had gone to unpopulated planets. The rest of us were on Chulak...or at the Alpha Site. The Aschen started to hunt us down. The Alpha Site was taken out first."_

_More memories. Damn it. _

"_While you were on Chulak?"_

"_Yeah."_

"_You do seem to have an inordinate amount of luck, don't you." She heard the tone of voice as he spoke. No. Not again. She thought she'd done so well this time! Now she only had one more chance. One more try to get it fixed before the Commander stepped in. _

_She put her head down on the table. If she'd been the type of person who was so inclined, she could have cried._


	7. Part 6

**Out of Time**

**Part 6**

_Infection Plus Seventeen Years_

"Are you planning another attack on the Aschen? Can I help?"

Sam looked up into the brown eyes of her daughter standing at the other end of the table and had a sense of déjà vu. Across from her Jack looked up at Jade too and then over at her, giving her a half-shrug and a resigned look. Sam nodded at Jade.

"Have a seat," she said, indicating the place next to her at the table.

The tall teen slid noiselessly into the chair and hooked a lock of her blond hair behind one ear as she leaned over the diagram Sam and Jack had been studying. It occurred to Sam that she might as easily have been looking at a school yearbook or a magazine, her interest was so keen. Except Jade had never seen either one. Sam felt a pang of regret at the thought, but pushed it aside as she had many times before. She'd learned years ago to be grateful for what she had for however long she had it. Jade had been nothing short of a miracle. There was no room for regret.

"Whoa!" This from Jade after she'd studied the image for a few seconds. "Is this what I think it is?"

"If you think it's the layout of an Aschen warship, then you're right," replied Jack. "All decks; all systems. It's boring as hell, but then what would you expect. Except in this case, boring works to our advantage."

Sam saw Jade flash her father a grin.

"Predictability," she said, understanding. Jack nodded.

"Exactly. They're so damned anal we'll know every protocol they'll follow and every post they'll man. Hell…we could probably even guess how many times they'd fire a weapon, if they actually carried any."

"They have weapons," contradicted Jade with a scowl. "I've seen them…." Her voice trailed off and Sam saw her swallow. She touched her daughter's arm in a silent show of sympathy. They'd both seen too many friends die.

"Not on the ships," explained Jack. "The weapons are there…in the armories, but their SOP is to remain unarmed unless under attack. And trust me…attack is going to be the last thing on their minds where we're getting on board."

Jade's eyes lit up.

"You've found the Aschen home world!"

"Well…not found, exactly. We always knew where it was. But given its distance it was never a viable target until now," answered Sam. "It's not like we've got a lot of ships at our disposal." She couldn't help a sigh that escaped her and she saw a dark look of anger pass over Jack's face. Of the five ships that had left earth ten years before, only the Daedalus remained. Three—the Apollo, the Korliev and the Phoenix—had been taken out by Aschen warships within the first year. The Odyssey, under the command of Paul Emerson, had done some damage, but ultimately it too had fallen to the Aschen's superior technology. Colonel Caldwell was the only survivor of the original six commanders who'd left earth a decade ago.

"And we just couldn't waltz in through the stargate," added Jack. "At least not until now."

Jade was nodding. Sam could see her already putting together the plan in her head. She had Jack's gift for strategy.

"The Ancient gateship," she said. Sam couldn't help but cringe. For some reason she really hated that term. "The one we found on the planet where Uncle Harry was."

"Oh for cryin' out loud, don't call him that," complained Jack, irritably. "Maybourne's not your uncle! I _hate_ it when you call him that. I should never have let you go with Daniel to study those damned ruins."

Sam and Jade shared a furtive glance. Jade was only too aware that calling Maybourne "Uncle Harry" would push her father's buttons. Sam knew she did it just so she could hear him sputter. The briefest of smiles crossed her daughter's lips.

"The ship's got a cloaking device. And, it fits through the gate," said Sam, trying to get off the topic of Maybourne before Jack could get up a full head of steam. "We can take it to the Aschen home world and insert some operatives. They'll get aboard the warships in orbit, plant explosives in the core of each of the ships, set them to blow and leave. Nothing too complex."

"Too bad the ship doesn't still have that time travel doo-dad in it that Daniel read about," muttered Jack. "Now _that_ would have been helpful. We'd go back and stop the Aschen before they ever let their damned plague loose. Somehow I don't think I was meant to spend my golden years plotting terrorist attacks."

"You know very well Daniel wasn't absolutely certain his interpretation of those ruins was correct. And even if he was…."

"Oh here we go," groaned Jack, sinking back in his chair and tossing his pen on the table in exasperation.

"Dad…Mom's right…once you start messing with the timeline…."

But Jack had stuck his fingers in his ears and was humming loudly, his eyes closed. Sam just shook her head as Jade glanced at her, rolling her eyes.

Finally Jack opened one eye, then two, and then lowered his hands.

"Are you two geeks done?" he asked them, pointedly. Sam couldn't help but smile. The way he said "geek" had always made the word seem like high praise.

"I think so. Besides. It's a moot point anyway. There is no time travel device and no way to change the past," she said. "All we've got is the present."

"Then I guess we'd better make the most of it," Jack replied.

**OOOO**

"No."

She heard the word rumble in his chest as she lay with her head against his shoulder in the dark. Her fingers traced by memory the scars that adorned his body. She knew where each and every one had come from…except one. He would never discuss that one. She knew why. It was from his time in the Iraqi prison. A time he'd never talk about. Not that he had to. Sometimes Jack's silence said a lot more than his words ever did.

She found the scar in question. It was ragged and raised, signs it had once been infected. And in a place that had to have hurt like hell. She felt his hand fumble for hers and press it against the old wound, as if somehow she had the ability to take away the memory of the pain. She wished she did. Just as she wished she could take away the reality that was staring them both in the face.

If they wanted to make absolutely certain they had the best chance of pulling off the attack on the Aschen, they needed Jade.

Jack had not agreed.

She hated to break the moment by mentioning it again. She'd rather lay here, listening to the beating of Jack's heart, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest, feeling the light touch of his calloused hand as it absently played across the skin on her back. If she could make the night last forever, she would, content just to be wrapped in Jack's strong arms.

But in a few hours Chulak's too early dawn would invade their sanctuary. The day lurked ahead of them and there was no going back now. The half dozen strike teams were in position at the Gamma Site, waiting to be shuttled in under cloak by the small, Ancient ship that only Jack and a handful of others could fly. The tablet she needed with the interface codes on it necessary to hack into the Aschen transporter system was already packed and on board. Over on the back of the chair hung the drab Aschen pants and tunic that would assure she looked like any other maintenance worker who might be tinkering with an out-of-service transporter station. Only a few ticks of the clock and everything would be set in motion. One way or another, everything was about to change.

But she needed Jade, regardless of what Jack said. Not to infiltrate one of the ships, God, no! But to be her own back-up, in case…well, in case. Beside herself, Jade was the only other person capable of hacking the Aschen transporter system. If for some reason she was compromised, someone needed to be able to transport the mission teams back to the planet. There was no way she was going to risk leaving Jack or anyone else on those ships when they blew. Everyone else had back-up; it was short-sighted to leave her with none. As much as she hated it, Jade had to come.

The time had come to break the moment.

"I need her, Jack. You know I do. If anything happened…."

"Nothing's going to happen." He cut her off sharply. She couldn't help notice, though, the almost reflexive way he'd tightened his arms around her as he said it.

"You don't know that. Anything could go wrong; and she's the only one who knows enough to get the teams in and out, beside myself. She has to come, Jack. You know it. You just don't like it."

"And you do?"

"God, no! Of course not! I wish she could stay here with Daniel and as far away from the Aschen as she can get! I don't want her in harm's way any more than you do."

He was silent. Maybe it was her imagination but she thought she could hear his heartbeat speed up. Certainly his body had gone tense, but he continued to hold her hand, as if he was somehow reluctant to let it go.

"I used to think I could protect her from this," he said finally. "That they'd give up and leave us the hell alone. I never wanted to turn our kid into a soldier."

"She's her parents' daughter," Sam admitted. "Like it or not, we taught her this."

"Yeah. Lucky her."

His bitterness was like a knife. Sam felt her eyes sting. She'd tried not to think too often of what Jade had become, or how they were responsible for it. Their daughter was brilliant, quick, perceptive, irreverently funny—and beautiful, on top of it all. On earth she would have been a top student, already looking at colleges, involved in all kinds of activities—and probably fighting off the boys with a stick…not that Jack would have let one within a hundred yards of her anyway.

And yet Sam couldn't help but think it ironic that, had it not been for the Aschen, Jade might never have even existed. Who knew what would have happened had earth been allowed to continue on it's merry way, free from the Aschen's cataclysmic intervention. She thought vaguely of the guy she'd been dating…Pete something. It had seemed so serious at the time. Who knew...she might have even married him. Jack had been forbidden territory, after all, and those feelings that they'd harbored for one another for so long might well have never been brought to light.

That thought alone left her feeling bereft. To never have openly loved Jack—or to have been loved by him—been cherished by him in all the ways he let her know that she was. In spite of everything, she could not imagine not having had him in her life this way.

And she could not imagine a life without Jade, who was, in some ways, the best of both of them, combined.

Which made bringing her along on this mission that much more worrisome. And that much more necessary.

Perhaps they had failed Jade as parents; but in a daughter, they could not have asked for more.

Jack must have felt a dampness on his shoulder. He let lose her hand and brought his to her face, wiping it gently and then resting his hand on her cheek.

"Or maybe it's lucky us," he said quietly, this time without a trace of bitterness. Sam looked up at him, barely finding his face in the darkness. If she hadn't already loved him to the point of it almost being a physical ache, she'd have cherished him all the more for that. As it was, she felt as thought her heart was going to burst.

She said the only thing that seemed appropriate to say.

"Indeed."

**OOOO**

The intel had been good. The Aschen did not carry weapons as they roamed the corridors of their warships. At least not while they were in orbit around their home world. And that would probably account for why he wasn't dead right now. Not that it gave him a whole lot of comfort.

Nor did it give him any comfort that he was not alone in his misery. Sheppard was in an adjacent cell…or whatever the hell it was they were locked up in. Cell was close enough, though it wasn't like anything he'd ever seen, goa'uld or otherwise. It was constructed of some kind of blue plastic with each side a wall of what turned out to be pliable bars. When they'd put him in one and Sheppard in another he'd watched as the edges all but glued themselves together. It reminded him of those flimsy bubble packs that stuff had come packaged in—the ones that seemed like they'd be easy to open but never were without a pair of scissors, a jackknife and a couple of bricks of C-4. He wasn't sure the scissors or jackknife would do much good at the moment, but he sure wished he had some of that C-4. Especially since he'd left all of his strategically placed around the engine core of the ship. And most especially since it was set to detonate in, oh…about eighteen-minutes, give or take a couple ticks of the second hand.

Oh yeah. They were so screwed.

Damn bum knee, anyway. Creeping through the corridors he'd wrenched the thing again. Not that it had ever been right since P5X-whatever-the-hell-it-was. But considering the quality of medical care on Chulak, he was surprised he'd ever been able to walk on it again. And it wasn't that he didn't appreciate being the local weather barometer, forecasting rain by how badly the thing ached, but all things considered, he'd have given anything for a bed in the ortho ward of Walter Reed or even Colorado Springs Memorial Hospital. He figured any place could have helped him more than did those weeks of Jaffa poultice made from something that smelled worse than the skunk cabbage on his grandfather's farm.

None of which had mattered when he'd pulled up lame, trying to dodge a couple of pasty-faced security guys who'd been tracking them half-way around the ship. He'd signaled Sheppard to go on—to leave him, but the guy wasn't exactly the model soldier when it came to following orders. Which was why, he was sure, Carter had insisted that he accompany Jack. Not that Sheppard couldn't have lead his own team—in fact, he damn well should have. After Carter he was the next highest surviving member in the chain of command. Which was exactly why he should have been on a different ship with a team of his own, successfully eluding capture and getting the hell back down to the planet and safely onto the cloaked gateship. If the two of them didn't make it, the escape of the other teams was solely dependent on the flying skill of a twenty-something year old lieutenant who'd only been in preschool the first time the Aschen ever put in an appearance.

But Carter had worn him down and so he'd taken Sheppard with him. He was sure she'd known that the major would never leave him behind, even if given a direct order. And that was exactly what had happened. If they made it out of here maybe he'd think about re-establishing court martials.

He hobbled around his cell, running his hands along the seam, looking for any kind of weakness. Not that it would do them much good. In addition to having grown themselves back together, the cages were also suspended in mid-air about ten meters off the ground by some kind of force field device. Even if they did get out, it was one hell of a long way down.

"I don't think you're going to find any way out, sir," Sheppard advised from the adjacent cell. "I don't know what these walls are made of, but it's not like anything I've ever seen."

"Just checkin'," replied Jack, although he'd come to the same conclusion about five minutes earlier. He couldn't just sit there, though, waiting to be blown to smithereens. It gave him way too much time to think. It was better to act and push those persistent thoughts to the back of his mind. If he did it long enough, it wouldn't matter: there'd be no mind to push them to the back of, and so he wouldn't care.

At least he hoped he wouldn't. Considering all the things he'd done in his life, it seemed highly probable that he'd end up some place other than at the pearly gates. And who knew what kind of loathsome things he might have to live over and over again in the toasty netherworld. Something else he really didn't care to contemplate at the moment.

There was one thought, though, that he couldn't rid himself of: the hope that Carter would follow the standard mission protocol they'd established and get the hell out of there with everyone else. He'd all but made her promise she would, but he hadn't gone quite that far. Somehow he couldn't. Maybe it was because he knew, in her place, he'd have resented being asked to make that promise…just as, if she were in his place, he'd ignore the standard mission protocol and come after her anyway.

He hoped she was smarter than he was. Well…okay—that was a given—she was _way_ smarter than he was. He just prayed she had more common sense.

He flipped back the cover and checked his watch. Fifteen minutes twenty-three seconds. Huh. Well. He'd seen his life count down before. More than once, in fact. Which just proved that the obvious end wasn't always all that obvious, even though, in this instance, he was pretty sure he wasn't going to get yanked back from the edge of the precipice in time.

This was good. Thinking about dying was keeping him from thinking about dying. Or more precisely, keeping him from thinking about what it was he would be leaving behind once the actual dying part took place. He refused to let himself think about them. That would lead to regret, and he would not face his death with regret. He intended to be a royal pain in the ass the whole way out.

Sheppard was silent. Good. He hated chatty roommates. Still—he wondered if he ought to say something to him. The guy was still relatively young—and he had the Ancient gene to boot. He was the future of the human race—able still to have kids. It was a shame he had to be locked up here with a lame CO who should have known better than to take anyone else with him on this mission.

The cell lurched and Jack uttered an oath in pain. It had thrown him on his bad knee which had nearly buckled under him. Glancing through his grimace he saw that Sheppard was on the floor. Someone was messing with the controls. In jerky, unsteady motions, the two cells were inching their way to the ground. Great. Maybe it was time for some Aschen torture. He only had about twelve minutes left; this would make it seem like twenty. Maybe they would bore him to death.

But it wasn't an Aschen at the panel when they were low enough to see into the room. Jack's mouth went dry and his gut squeezed into a tight ball before a combination of admiration and fury burst into his brain.

It was Sam.

Her face was taut and she kept looking over her shoulder, as if expecting company at any moment. Behind her, on the floor, slumped a zatted Aschen. Jack couldn't tell if he was alive or dead, and frankly, he didn't care. They'd all be dead in a matter of moments if Carter didn't move things along.

She'd seemed to have managed to figure out how to lower the cages, but not how to open the doors. Frustration showed on her face from the other side of the glass booth she was in. She tried sequence after sequence on what seemed to be the Aschen equivalent of a keypad, but still nothing happened. She had one hand on her zat and looked for the world as though she was considering the O'Neill technique for dealing with uncooperative technology, when she suddenly found the right combination and the doors slid up.

They were free.

He couldn't help himself.

"Dammit, Carter!! What the hell did I tell you? You weren't to come after us. No matter what!"

If she took offense at his tone, she didn't show it. She merely handed each of them a weapon.

"Sorry, sir," she replied, quite evident that she wasn't in the least. "But maybe we can discuss this later…Jade is waiting to bring us down if we can get to a transport station. By my watch we don't have a whole lot of time to spare."

There was still the matter of the knee, though, which was what had gotten them into this situation in the first place. He doubted Carter would be willing to take Sheppard and go on ahead, so there was no point in even suggesting it. Being the millstone he had no choice but to be, he accepted help from Sheppard and hobbled off in Sam's wake.

He had to say this for the Aschen—they hated inconvenience of any kind. Which was why every level on the ship had it's own transporter station and sometimes even two, as it did on this level. Quite convenient, if he did say so himself. It would save him a lot of embarrassing whimpering.

With Sheppard's help he struggled forward and up onto the small platform. Carter was bringing up the rear now, still watchful for anyone on their tail. He looked up and down the corridor, but there wasn't a soul in sight. Time to get the hell out of here.

He never did see where the blast came from. There was a sound—an oddly funny sound—and suddenly Sam had the most surprised look on her face. For one insanely bizarre moment he thought she was laughing at the weird little noise, but then he saw the stain blooming across her chest, brilliantly red against the drab pale gray of her tunic. Her eyes met his and time came grinding to a halt. Fear, sorrow, love, regret, condolence, acceptance passed over them in the space of three heartbeats. And then she dropped. First to her knees, then crumpling to the floor, her eyes drifting closed before she lay still.

"_NOOOOOOOO!!_"

From some place a horrible, heart-rending cry had erupted, filling the corridor with an inhuman sound. It took Jack a moment to realize that it was coming from him, and that he was struggling, fighting with every bit of strength to get off the platform and over to where she lay. But something was holding him back. Someone. It was Sheppard. Strange sounds were coming from elsewhere now. That funny noise that could hardly be lethal. But Sheppard was pushing him down behind the console as charges of energy rained around them on either side.

He saw Sheppard lunge for Sam. For a moment he thought he was going back for her—that he'd seen some sign of life in her and wasn't going to leave her behind any more than she had been going to leave them. But then he saw the major reach for the small device that had fallen from her hand—the communicator she'd brought, to alert Jade when it was time to bring them down.

One of the smaller shots clipped Sheppard as he crawled back to the platform. A red blister appeared on his face and began to ooze. Jack glanced at him briefly but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Sam. Her face was serene. At peace. Oblivious to his suffering, to the horrible, dark emptiness that was inside of him where she used to be. A nothingness. A hollow. Like someone had come and eviscerated him, yet left him cruelly alive. His heart ached with a pain that he'd only felt once before in his life and had hoped to God never to feel again.

He couldn't leave her here. Not to the Aschen. Not to the bastards who had done this to her. To them. He had to bring her home, if it was the last thing he ever did.

He scrambled, as Sheppard had done, trying to get off the platform amidst the flying energy bolts. The knee stopped him. Down he went, like a sack, pain shooting up and down his leg in both directions. He must have cried out because he felt Sheppard's hand grip his arm and pull him back.

A moment later the nightmare scene shimmered into nothing behind a waving, wrinkling curtain as he was wrenched away to a safety he did not want.

**OOOO**

Somewhere, far away, like a faint echo off a distant wall, she thought she heard the sound she'd been waiting for. A hum. The harmonics of atoms being deconstructed into their subatomic particles before they were transported to another place. A place that wasn't here.

Her eyes were so leaden she could barely make them open. The images were far away too. Like a picture at the end of a long tunnel. But she could see him. One more time she could see him. And then he vanished from sight.

A final breath that was a sigh.

He was safe.

And she could rest.

**OOOO**

"Jack…."

"Go away, Daniel."

Instead of vanishing, however, the dark form silhouetted in the doorway came closer. Jack squinted at the light that took his place and was grateful when the door groaned shut behind him.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't do that. Not this time."

Oh for cryin….

"Trust me, Daniel. It's for your own good," he growled. "Now go the hell away."

Daniel took another step closer. Jack was caught between an overwhelming urge to leap up and physically make Daniel leave and a desire to slink back deeper into the corner so that Daniel could not find him in the darkness that was their home. His home. His home alone.

"And what about Jade's own good?" Daniel was relentless. His voice was edged with his own brand of anger. Like Daniel really knew what true anger was like. "She's your daughter, Jack. She needs you."

Jack reached for the cup he had already drained twice and looked in it ruefully. Jaffa ale had nothing on Guinness. What he'd give for a couple of six packs about now. Or maybe a couple dozen. He was still studying the few remaining drops on the bottom of the cup as he answered Daniel.

"That's what she's got you for. You're good at that stuff. I'm not."

But Daniel would not be deterred. He'd planted himself in the middle of the room, arms crossed in front of him.

"She needs her father."

He had nothing to say to this. What was there to say. Certainly not yes. Okay—so maybe she did need a father. But she sure as hell didn't need him.

"Jack…she's in pain," Daniel tried again, his voice almost breaking.

That almost…almost, got to him. But then he batted it away. He was empty. He had nothing to give. Not to Daniel. Not to Jade. Not even to himself. It was easier to sit here in the dark and drink whatever the hell it was the Jaffa had given him. He was pretty sure if he drank enough of it, whatever little feeling he had left would finally go away. That was a goal worth striving for.

"Yeah. Well. Sorry. Can't help."

"You sorry sonofabitch," mumbled Daniel, his anger palpable. He was moving agitatedly around the room now. It added to Jack's intolerance level at the moment.

"Yeah. You called me that once before, if I recall. Turned out I was right then too."

"Jack…this isn't a matter of who's right or wrong You've got a fifteen year old girl out there who's lost her mother."

"And what have I lost, Daniel?"

The archeologist studied him for a moment. Jack couldn't help but feel like he was a subject under a magnifying glass.

"I was going to say 'Sam'," he replied "But I think you've lost even more than that. I think you've lost your soul."

"Humph," he huffed. Like he ever had one to begin with.

Daniel was back standing in front of him. He could see the emotion in the archeologist's eyes, even in this dim light.

"So….what are you going to do? Sit in here in the dark and drink Jaffa rotgut until you pass out?"

"It's a start."

Daniel made a noise of disgust and turned as if to go. Finally.

But then he turned back.

"Sam wouldn't want you to do this, you know. She'd want—she'd _expect_ you to be there for Jade—for the two of you to help each other through this. If she saw you like this…."

"Daniel…remember what I said before…about getting out of here for your own good?" He didn't wait for him to answer. "If I were you…I'd do it now."

There must have been something deadly enough in his voice to finally convince Daniel. He turned and headed for the door, but paused before actually lifting the handle. He didn't look at Jack but kept his eyes glued to the floor.

"The Jack O'Neill I thought I knew would never leave a kid to hurt on her own. I guess I didn't just lose one friend on that Aschen ship. I lost two."

And with that he was gone.

Jack sat in the dark, staring absently at the door that had clicked close with hardly a sound in Daniel's wake. It took a moment for Daniel's words to sink in.

"Yeah, Danny-boy," he muttered to the now empty room. "Yeah. I guess you did."

**OOOO**

"What?" Jack didn't even bother to look up from his desk. His peripheral vision registered that someone had walked into the room. He didn't know who and at the moment he didn't care. He was reading a report on a recon mission by SG5. They'd found a stash of Ancient technology the likes of which they'd never seen before. A bunch of Ba'al's Jaffa had driven them off before they could collect any of it, but not before they'd been able to hide it. It might be worth going back for.

"I'd like to join the Special Ops unit," said the person on the other side of his desk. The voice alone brought his head up with a jerk.

"What are you doing here?" he asked irritably. She didn't meet his eyes. She was standing there, at attention, just as he'd taught her when she was a little girl and it had been a game. It was no game now.

"I said, I'd like to join the Special Ops unit," she repeated. "I'd like to become a trained operative and do my share in the war against the Aschen."

"We kicked their asses," growled Jack, turning back to the report. "They won't be bothering us for a while."

"But they'll rebuild their ships eventually. And we can't ignore the goa'uld either. Or the replicators. You need every person you can get. You need me. "

"I don't need children," he muttered. "Or scientists."

"I'm not a child," she replied steadily. "And if you don't think my training with Ry'ac and the Jaffa around here have make me tough enough, then maybe we can arm wrestle, Dad."

Jack felt his chest tighten. The tone of her voice. The inflection….even the words.

He swallowed hard and carefully set the pen down on the desk before looking up at her.

No. No child stood before him. Just a recruit. Smart and tough like her…well. Smart and tough.

A good commander didn't let assets go to waste. A good commander knew when to make the most of the resources he'd been given. A good commander knew when to take any advantage that presented itself.

He stood up and looked into eyes that were both like and not like his own.

"In that case, you may call me 'Commander'."

**-o-o-o-o-**

_**Time Incursion #11**_

Infection Minus Fourteen Days

"_Of course it wasn't easy. But we did okay. Until the Aschen hunted us down again. They were determined to exterminate us, no matter what it took…or how long." She took a deep breath. She'd managed to get through the hardest part. She'd done it. And they were still here, listening to her. Maybe this time, she thought. Maybe this time she'd get them to believe her._

"_Since then we've been on the run," she continued. "A few years ago we found some technology that enabled us to time travel and we decided rather than watch the human race die out, if we came back in time and fixed it, we'd never have to go through this in the first place. That's why I'm here."_

_Barrett scribbled some more notes and without looking at her murmured,_

"_I see."_

_Her stomach dropped. For all his attentiveness she could read him like a book. He hadn't bought it. Not one word of it. Hope drained from her. Not again. _

"_Look…." She leaned toward him trying to infuse as much intensity into her look as she could. He glanced up at her. "I know this sounds incredible. I know this sounds like I took every disaster and end-of-the-world movie and rolled them all into one unbelievable storyline. But I swear to you—on my mother's grave—that this is the absolute truth. You have to believe me."_

_She could still feel the doubt emanating off of him. This was her last chance. If the Commander became involved.…_

"_Please," she pleaded one more time. "Please…you just can't ignore this. You have to believe me. You can stop this from happening. Just don't go to P5X-404," she entreated the dark. "Don't make a treaty with the Pack. That's where it all starts. If you listen to me…none of this has to happen."_

_She saw Barrett look over her shoulder and give a nod to one of the SF's standing guard by the door. No. No. No. She couldn't fail this time. She just couldn't. She looked back at Barrett hoping that he would see in her face the truth she was telling him. As she caught his gaze she thought for a moment she saw a look of surprised recognition cross it. But as quickly as it was there it vanished. He was Agent Barrett doing his duty. And his duty was to send her off to Area 51…again. She'd never arrive. Just as she never had the last ten times she'd been sent there. But there wouldn't be a twelfth._

_She had failed. The Commander would insist on his plan now. It was complex and dangerous and had as high a risk of failure as it had of success. But now it was the only one left. They had run out of options._

_They had run out of time._


	8. Epilogue

**Out of Time**

**Epilogue**

Golden sunlight dances in her hair. A smile reaches her eyes for the first time in months. Her laughter comes freely and unreserved.

And _Jack_. His name. His given name. Spoken in her voice, aloud, to him.

And he can call her Sam.

No ranks. No chain of command. No regulations. Not here. Not now. Not any more.

Watching her drift away from him over the past year has been hell. Torture. Worse than torture. But he thought it was what was best for her, and so he'd let her go.

But then she'd come back. That day in his backyard, she'd stood there, saying nothing but yet saying everything. And his carefully crafted world had turned upside down again, just as it had the day she'd first walked into his life.

Except this time he'd done something about it.

And now here they are.

Fourteen months ago the old man had stood on the deck and offered him a glimpse into his future. He'd never had a chance to say yes or no. But it didn't matter anyway. That future…whatever it was…no longer existed. They'd changed it. Fixed it. Re-done it. Whatever. He'll never be that bitter creature who would say what he'd said, or do what he'd done. The old man had saved him from that. And saved himself in the process.

He knows he'll never completely understand what had happened to him. What he's been spared. He doesn't want to. It's enough to know that what they did all those months ago to change the future was worth it. Especially if it means he can sit here on this beautiful summer day beside her, simply enjoying her presence.

A splash. Her line goes in again. A click on the reel and the slow hum as she winds it back up.

They'd settled a few things on the drive up. Like names.

Tonight they would settle a few more.

He'd told her _always_, and he'd meant it. Now, at least, they have an always to look forward to.

She casts her line again.

_This is great,_ she says.

He looks at her.

_I told ya._

She smiles.

_I can't believe we didn't do it years ago._

He glances her way again. She looks happy. Relaxed. An ankle hooked over one knee. Their bodies almost touch. He'd kiss her now if he hadn't heard Teal'c and Daniel just pull up in the driveway. But that can wait. There is no rush. Not any more.

He's had enough of time conundrums for now. He's content with the present. After all that has happened, to be here in this moment, with her, is the only thing he wants—the only thing he needs.

_Yes. Well. Let's not dwell._

Their eyes meet. They have an understanding.

There is an inherent blessing in that. A profound relief. A welcomed respite.

It is…peace.


End file.
